
Class 

Book 

CopyriglTt)^!' 



COPyRIGHT DEPOSm 



POEMS 



MINOT J. SAVAGE 



BOSTON 

Geo. H. Ellis, 141 Franklin Street 

1883 







x^ 



Copyright, 

1882, 

By GEORGE H. ELLIS 



/i-zT'^o 



1 



Betiicatetr 



To one whose loving eye divines 

Rare meanings writ between the lines, 

And on whose ear oft falls a tone 

Caught by the listening heart alone. 

But shall I to the world disclose 

The name ? Enough to say, — she knows. 



T CLAIM no place among the great : 

-■■ Shakspere and Goethe rise 

Like mountains keeping their high state, 

At home in far-off skies. 
Meantime, the valleys at their feet 

The brooklets murmur through, 
With restful voices low and sweet : 

So would I speak to you. 

The lark soars in the morning sky, 

While wondering listeners wait 
To hear his lessening music die 

Throbbing at heaven's gate. 
Meanwhile, the robin at your door 

Pours out his gladness too : 
He gives his best ; who giveth more "i 

And thus I give to you. 



CONTENTS 



NATURE 

Never Weary 13 

The Song of the Pines i5 

Nature and Man i8 

The Sea's Secret 20 

The Cat-bird 24 

The Kennebec 27 

The Storm 29 

The Dream of the Brook 31 

The Leaf 32 

Only a Leaf 33 

A Moonlight Night in San Mateo 34 

Evening 35 

The Sublime 36 



LIFE 

Life's Wonder 37 

The Weed-grown Path 41 

Outer and Inner 42 

Hidden Springs 45 

Doubt 48 

Motherhood 49 

One Left 51 

The Emperor's Hand "". 52 



The Poets 



S3 



A Block of Marble 54 

Unknown Heroes 55 

Decorating the Soldiers' Graves 56 



8 CONTEXTS 

The Two Conflicts : 1S64 57 

Loneliness of Truth-seeking , . 60 

In Bud 61 

Father : 1864 63 

A Fancy 65 

God made our Lives lo be a Song 66 

One Law 67 

None liveth to Himself 69 

The Shadow 70 

On a Poetess publishing late in Life 71 

Pursuit 72 

Young and Old 73 

The Coming Ship 74 

In Common Things 76 

To F. J. S 77 

Gertrude. 1868 78 

St. Christofer 83 



Dante's PVaise of Beatrice 

My River 

Disenchanted .... 
Love's Garden .... 
Lethe 



LOVE 
9> 



My River 



Leander to Hero og 

To E. in Absence qg 

'f^E. :;: ■.".'. 100 

The Universe lost for Love ,01 

Love is Immortality jq2 

Abelard to Heloise jq^ 

The Hand '.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.[ ^o^ 

F^te ,„5 

Will Love descend ? j^^ 

The Crime against Love ^ 

What shall We Do ? icx) 

The Question 

The Shadow on the TVnch ^^ 



CONTENTS 



PROBLEMS 

Where is God? 113 

The Age's Unrest 114 

What does It Brmg? » . . 117 

The House of the Soul 118 

The Ancient 120 

My Birth 123 

The Forbidden Song 125 

The People 127 

Dead Gods 129 

At Sea 131 

The Village " Infidel" 134 

The Poet's Art 137 

The Old Problem 138 

Laughter and Death 139 

If a Ship, a Sea 140 

To-monow 141 

A Christmas Thought 142 

" Do Men gather Figs from Thistles ? " 143 

Infidelity i44 

Caliban 145 



PERSONS 

James A. Garfield 146 

Vanini 150 

Galileo 151 

Magellan 152 

Kepler 153 

Darwin 154 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 155 

The People's Poet 156 

R. W. S 157 

Of R. W. S. Early Dead 158 



lO CONTENTS 



POT-POURRI 

Labor vs. Capital i6i 

All Things New i6i 

Heads and Hands 162 

Book Compassion 162 

Man's Ally 163 

Egotism 163 

Debt to the Past 164 

A Legal Maxim 164 

Justice Peeping 164 

The Virtues of " Fiat'' 165 

Monopolists 166 

A Rose 167 

A Rich Man 168 

Politics 169 

A Query 170 

Members of One Another 170 

" As Doves to their Windows" 171 

Compensation 173 

F.J.S ,72 

Hawk & Co 173 

Heart and Brain 174 

Schopenhauer 174 

Christian Charity for the Jew 175 

Civil Service Reform 176 

Creeds 177 

The King and the Jackass 178 

A True Tale from Italy 179 

Woman's Tears 180 

Woman's Power . 180 

Wisdom and Beauty 181 

Wrecked 181 

Man's Critic 181 

Love's Dream 182 

Conquering the Conqueror i8a 

Mrs. Poyser on Women i8a 



CONTENTS 1 1 

Esthetic Piety 183 

The Parrot Creed 183 

Providence 184 

Fortune 185 

Death wipes the Slate 185 

TIMES 

It shall Be 186 

The Gate of the New Year, 1876 189 

When will He Come ? 192 

Facing the Unknown 196 

The Undiscovered 199 

The Christmas Hope 201 

Contrasted Greetings 205 

Easter Bells 209 

Then Only? 212 



SORROW AND HOPE 

Light on the Cloud 217 

Mystery 218 

The Pescadero Pebbles 220 

Life in Death 222 

The Dead Acorn 223 

Going to Sleep 225 

Life from Death 227 

At Twilight Time 228 

The Finished Life 230 



Better Off 



232 



The Dead One's Message 234 

Which is Better? 236 

A Lesson of Trust 238 

The Dead Home 241 

The Heart's Spring-time 244 



pASSING along life's dusty road, 
"*• To rest a weary hour, 
I've loved to pause, and turn aside 
To pluck some simple flower. 

It may be weeds I've gathered too ; 

But even a weed may be 
As fragrant as the fairest flower 

With some sweet memory. 

But, if my flowers and grasses have 

No beauty to your eye, 
Think they may speak to other hearts, 

And gently pass them by. 



NATURE 



NEVER WEARY 

{The Sea) 

T IFT thy white hands with welcome, 
-■-^ And clap them on the shore, 
O thou, the never weary, 
The young forevermore ! 

No lover loves his mistress 

As I do love the sea, 
Or hastes with such swift passion 

As I do haste to thee. 

Through all the year's long labor 

I hear thee calling still : 
As thou the moon obeyest, 

I bow me to thy will. 

My heart bends toward thee ever. 

Acknowledging thy sway, 
And echoes all thy moaning 

To be so far away. 



NATURE 

Men call thee false and fickle, 

The all-devouring sea ; 
And shudder at thy caverns 

With their dread mystery. 

But thou to me art ever 
The faithful and the fond, 

Disclosing half thy beauty, 
But hinting more beyond. 

Thine infinite suggestion 
Still lures me to thy side ; 

Thy quiet murmur soothes me ; 
I like thy stormy pride. 

I like thee with thy frowning, 
When on the shingly keys 

Thy mighty hands are beating 
The tempest's harmonies. 

I like thee in thy slumber, 

When heaves thy curving breast, 

While thou dost breathe as gently 
As babe when rocked to rest. 

I choose thee for my mistress. 
And yield thee all thy will ; 

Be gentle or be wrathful, 
But I will love thee still. 



NEVER WEARY 15 

Oh, when I am aweary 

Of all my little strife, 
Thou tellest me a story 

Of tireless, endless life. 

Far back in primal aeons 

Thou laughedst as to-day ; 
And all the slow-paced ages 

Smiled at thy youthful play. 

Forever young thou seemest, 
Thine eye undimmed by tears, 

Thy green locks free and flowing 
As in the earliest years. 

I stretch my hands out to thee, 

I lie upon thy breast. 
And with thy tireless motion 

Thou rockest me to rest. 

My little life so weary 

Thy croon and thy caress 
Soothe with the eternal whisper 

That knows no weariness. 

To me, my brain exhausted, 

My energy grown dull. 
Thy tide proclaims this gospel, — 

God^s cup is always full. 



1 6 NATURE 



THE SONG OF THE PINES 

T LEFT my study, dropped my books, 
■*■ And, turning from the town. 
Bethought me of the quiet nooks 
Deep hid in forests brown. 

I came to where the old pines stood, 

And needle carpets spread : 
The sun's gold trickled through the wood, 

The winds soughed overhead. 

I laid me down in restful peace, 
And watched the swaying boughs. 

While thought, rejoiced at her release, 
Went wandering in drowse. 

And as, half-dreaming in my place, 

Beneath the trees I lay, 
The flecks of sunshine on my face. 

The tired world far away. 

My thinking seemed to melt and flow 

As grapes melt into wines. 
Into a song-stream sweet and low, — 

The winds among the pines. 



THE SONG OF THE PINES 1 7 

They sung — my thoughts — the story o'er 

Of how, since time began, 
Life started on the ocean floor 

And cHmbed up into man. 

And then more strange the chanting grew ; 

It swelled so glad and free 
While rose the coming years to view 

And all the fair to-be. 

I listened till my heart beat high 

To haste the laggard years ! 
And, when I roused me with a sigh, 

My lids were wet with tears. 

I kept but snatches of my dream, — 
Oh, would the whole might stay 1 

It dwindled like a mountain stream 
The Summer dries away. 

But, as I mused the vision o'er, 

A peace was in my breast. 
As when Night folds her starry door 

And soothes the flowers to rest. 

For still my glimmering dream-glow makes 
My hope's high hill-tops bright, 

Like the faint streak the morning wakes. 
When wanes the summer night. 



l8 NATURE 

For man's deep midnight now is past; 

And, though the shadows lie 
Still in the valleys, now at last 

Dawn's in the eastern sky. 



NATURE AND MAN 

A S sleeps the ^olian harp, but wakes 
-^^ Touched by the fingers of the wind, 
So nature her weird music makes 
Only as breathed on by the mind. 

The artist fingers of the sea 

Beat out their music on the shore, — 
A pensive, far-off melody, — 

Or smite the keys with crash and roar. 

But pensive sigh and thunder deep 
Are in the ears that hear alone : 

They absent, sound falls off asleep. 
And voiceless Motion has no tone. 

The rose-tint, or the colors fair 

Of rainbow, or the surf's white gleam, 

if no eye sees, are less than air. 
The viewless fancies of a dream. 



NATURE AND MAN 19 

'Tis this strange consciousness that hears ; 

'Tis this, and this alone, that sees. 
Man is an organ : eyes and ears, 

On which the world plays, are his keys. 

The music is not in the touch 

Whose fingers run the key-board o'er 

This only motion, such or such, — 
Motion alone, and nothing more. 

If no ear hears, the motion's all : 
The endless motion still may play. 

But sounds must into silence fall 
When those who listen go away. 

Bend low before the mystery ! 

Man's world lives only in man's thought : 
The wondrous things we hear and see 

Are in his loom of fancy wrought. 

Does naught exist, then, save the mind ? 

Nay, not that only. Some grand Power 
Doth endless links of life unwind. 

Creating all things every hour. 

While, in the mind's alembic, these — 
Motions of earth and sea and air — 

Are changed to finest harmonies. 
Or clothed in forms of beauty rare. 



NATURE 



THE SEA'S SECRET 

I SAT on the beach at twiUght, 
And watched the rismg moon, 
While on my ear the wavelets 
Beat out their soothing croon. 

The town-life, with its worry. 

Had faded to a dream : 
Life's toil had turned to fancy, 

And fancies real did seem. 

And so I watched the wavelets 

Fall at my feet in play. 
And let my dream-wings flutter 

Through dreamlands far away. 

The curling foam-flakes whispered 
How, tossing round the world. 

They'd kissed a tropic island, 
As past it they were whirled. 



It was so fair, they told me, 

That, though they could not stay, 

None might forget the vision ; 
It haunted them alway. 



THE sea's secret 21 

" It is," they said, "this longing, 

That ne'er outworn may be, 
That makes us moan forever 

The secret of the sea." 

"What is this secret ? Tell me." 
The murmurous answer fell : — 

"We've sought for one to listen, 
That we the tale might tell. 

" But none could understand us, 

So evermore in vain 
We sob in plaintive music 

That no man can explain." 

The w^hile I sat and listened, 

The ripple on the beach 
Of white waves in the moonshine 

Became a silvery speech. 

" That island of our vision 

We saw so far away. 
We hoped that men might find it 

Some fair and happy day. 

" For we have heard men's sighing. 
And we have seen their tears. 

While up the weary ages 

They've toiled along the years. 



NATURE 

" So when upon the ocean 

They launched their ships at last, 
We whispered, 'We will lead them 

Where sorrow shall be past.' 

"For we had seen the island 

Uplift its palms in air, 
And known it for that Eden 

Where never comes despair. 

" So round their ships we rippled. 
And chased the winds at play, 

Still hoping we might bring them 
To that land far away. 

" But ever are we baffled : 
By adverse currents whirled, 

To other oceans drifting, 
Or on the breakers hurled, 

"We see the vain endeavor, 
We hear the hopeless cry. 

While still through fruitless labors 
They seek, find not, and die. 

" And yet each wave that shoreward 
Comes rippling up the bay 

Has seen the vision splendid, — 
That island far away. 



THE sea's secret 23 

" But still, with all our longing 

That men this rest may gain, 
Fate laughs at all our labor ; 

And 'false, devouring main ' 

" Men call us, while so gladly 

We would a pathway be 
To lead them to this peaceful. 

Fair island of the sea. 

" But, 'stead of this, forever 
Where priceless treasures sleep, 

Fate whelms both ship and sailor 
Beneath the moaning deep. 

" This is the sea's sad secret, — 

That, do whate'er we may, 
The goal of our endeavor 

Still lies so far away. 

" 'Tis this, if men but knew it. 
That makes the sea's low moan, 

In hours of weary longing. 
So answer to their own. 

" One age-long, endless struggle. 

The unattained to gain. 
The ever onward reaching, 

And reaching still in vain, — 



NATURE 



" This is the heart's sad secret, 
Wherever men may be ; 

And this — the heart's deep echo, 
The secret of the sea'' 



THE CAT-BIRD 

^H ROUGH the night and through the day 

-'■ Runs a babbling brook away, 
'Neath the hill and to the river 
Through the pasture, on forever. 
Shadowy playmates still I see. 
Rivalling the brooklet's glee ; 
And the cat-bird's voice I hear, 
That so piqued my childhood's ear. 
Saucy, mocking cat-bird 

On the alder spray. 
Even now I hear thee. 
Though so far away. 

Thou incarnate, wicked joy, 
How I watched thee as a boy, — 
Mocking with thy saucy call 
Robin, jay, kingfisher, all, — 
Picking up the varied notes 
As they fell from feathery throats. 



THE CAT-BIRD 2 

Screeching as in demon glee 
Our astonishment to see ! 
Ashen-coated cat-bird 
On the alder spray, 
Mocking all thy fellows 
Through the live-long day. 

Thou highwayman of the wood, 
Our New England Robin Hood, 
Eating eggs thou did'st not lay, 
Making other nests thy prey. 
How with childish wrath we heard 
Tales of thee, thou wicked bird, — 
Of feathered maidens in distress, — 
Longing still to make redress ! 
But thou, saucy cat-bird 

On the alder spray. 
All our maledictions 

Mocked and jeered away ! 

Oft amid the leaves descried. 

With thy pert head cocked one side. 

Oddly jerking thy long tail. 

How Tve heard thee jeer and rail, 

Scolding on through all the weathers, 

Like a Carlyle dressed in feathers : 

NoTS TO Third Stanza.— This stanza is intended to set forth the 
popular traditions as to the cat-bird's character. The author — as one of his 
lovers — is inclined to think all such slanderous rumors unfou)idef9. 



Z6 NATURE 

Then, to mock the mockery, 
Thou wouldst bubble o'er in glee. 
O thou cynic cat-bird, 

Mimicking mankind. 
All our whims and fancies 
Laughing down the wind 1 

Tragic, comic actor thou. 
For thy stage an alder bough ; 
Now, some borrowed joyous note 
Pouring from thy feigning throat ; 
Now, from wailing puss in sorrow. 
Her alarm cry thou dost borrow ; 
Till, to us bewildered, seems 
Each but fancies of our dreams. 
Mimic actor, cat-bird. 

Thus thy betters do, 
Till 'tween good and evil 

Nothing seemeth true. 

Cat-bird, but I love thee still. 
By the brook-side, 'neath the hill, 
Laughing, mocking in the trees. 
Feathered Mephistopheles ; 
Playing out thy varied part, 
Mirroring the human heart ; 
Fretting, scolding, scornful, then 
Bursting out in joy again ! 



THE KENNEBEC 27 

Good and evil cat-bird 

On the alder spray, 
Like thy contradictions 

Run our lives away. 



THE KENNEBEC 

'^ I ^IS now the redd'ning sun goes down, 

-*• And slants his beams across, 
Through autumn woods, past shadows brown, 

O'er many a mound of moss. 

And settles down a brooding still 

Upon the evening gray ; 
While east, the moon, above the hill, 

Climbs up her starry way. 

Between its banks, in shadowy sheen. 

My river runneth by : 
Broad sweeps it past the meadows green, 

Itself blue, like the sky. 

Now on its bosom all at rest 

I push my boat from shore. 
This night, I'll float upon thy breast 

Or plash the dripping oar. 



28 NATURE 

The wavelets dance around my prow, 
And laugh in moonshine bright : 

List to their tiny music now 
Rise on the glimmering night ! 

See where the shadows, falling down 
This side the rising moon, 

Outline the ragged bluff so brown : 
They'll all flee shoreward soon. 

Meanwhile, here in the shadow dim, 
Where looms the hill-top high, 

I watch the branch-torn, ragged rim 
Cut sharp against the sky. 

There, just below, a shadowy band, 
The bridge hangs o'er the flood, 

By which two villages clasp hand 
In loving brotherhood. 

Beyond the bridge, — I know it well, — 
The church which elms embower ; 

And now rings out the evening bell 
Upon this perfect hour. 

Sweet village ! Thou to me dost seem 
A picture free from care : 

Thou art a lovely country dream. 
And, like a dream, most fair. 



THE STORM 29 

Sweet river ! While the city's din 

Goes up with ceaseless roar, 
I wander back to what has been, 

And sit upon thy shore. 

Again, my boat's side leaning o'er, 

I muse and dream, and see. 
Through childhood's wondering eyes once more, 

The things that were to be. 



THE STORM 

nPHE sky is a sieve that the rough wind shakes ; 

-*- And far and wide o'er the frozen earth 
Flutter and fall the flour-white flakes, 
Like ashes strewn on the wintry hearth. 

The air is thick with the blinding fall ; 

The trees are ghosts in the twilight gloom ; 
Night slowly lowers her mournful pall 

O'er the shrouded earth in her sky-domed tomb. 

The forests moan to the shivering air. 

While the hoarse winds call from the icy rock 

That rears its gray front, bleak and bare. 
To shatter the ravening waves' wild shock. 



30 NATURE 

Oh, pity the sailor's fate to-night ! 

For bitter and keen is the north wind's breath ; 
And the dun storm quenches the beacon light, 

Now false to its warning of wreck and death. 

As a frighted bird flees the hawk's career. 
The lost bark flies o'er the reeling wave : 

Their hearts stand still in their breasts for fear, 
And their eyes strain out on a gaping grave. 

A shivering shock, and a piercing yell ! 

A rush of waters, a sidelong heel ! 
The gun's dull boom her last farewell, — 

And the waves surge over her, deck and keel ! 

Oh, pity the sailor's fate to-night ! 

And pity the homes that wait in vain ! 
The pitiless sun, in the morrow's light. 

Will laugh, as of old, with the waves again. 



THE DREAM OF THE BROOK 31 



THE DREAM OF THE BROOK 

A BROOK slept through an afternoon, 
-^~^ And as it slept it dreamed the while ; 
It talked in sleep with childlike croon, 
And rippled in a sunny smile. 

It dreamed of children that had played 

Along its banks as on it ran : 
Then fixed its thought on one that strayed, 

More fair than all, — the little man ! 

On one that strayed ; and then the gleam 
Of sunshine changed to shade profound : 

While sadly moaned the sleeping stream, — 
It dreamed the little lad was drowned. 



32 NATURE 

THE LEAF 

French of Arnault 

FROM off thy frail stem broke, 
Poor, withered leaf, and dead, 
Where goest thou ? 

It said : 
I know not. From the oak. 
My sole support, the storm 
Has torn my frost-browned form. 
Since then, by fickle wind, 
Zephyr or Aquilon, 
From forest to the plain, 
To vale from mountain-top, 
I'm hurried, driven on. 
My path I never mind : 
Where'er the breezes blow, 
On land or on the main, 
I go, nor care to stop. 
I go where all things go, — 
Where goes the beauteous rose, 
Where the poet's laurel goes. 



ONLY A LEAF 



ONLY A LEAF 



33 



TT was only a little leaf, 
-*■ That hung for a while on its bough : 
It danced and fluttered but life was brief, 
And its place is vacant now. 

It was only a little leaf 

Did it pay to live at all ? 
The sun smiled on it, the cold rains came, 

And then it was doomed to fall. 

It was only a little leaf ; 

But on it did shine the sun, 
The winds did caress it, the birds did sing. 

And it lived till its work was done. 

It was only a little leaf, 

But it took its gladsome part 
In the great earth's life ; and, at the last, 

Earth clasped it to her heart. 



34 



NATURE 



A MOONLIGHT NIGHT IN SAN MATEO 

T^HOU'RT very lovely, when as now, O Night, 
^ The brilliant blue of heaven looks adown, 
One broad expanse of brightness ; and the brown 

Old mountains robe themselves in soft moonlight ! 

My study window looks out on a sight 

Of rarest beauty. See, the moon has thrown 
From shore to shore, across the waters, prone 

Over St. Francis Bay, of broad beams bright, 

A massy bridge of silver ! Pitying Moon, 

Dost thou see where, three thousand miles away, 
Lone, in their lonely house, my loved ones sleep, 
And dream perchance of one returning soon ; 
While, on the hill-top near, thy tender ray 

Falls on two graves o'er which the night dews 
weep? 



EVENING 35 



EVENING 

A FTER the noisy day, with rush and roar, 
-^^ Has all the chambers of the soul possest, 

Its holy nooks disturbed with rout unblest, 
How sweet the lengthening shadows on the floor. 
As soft the old nurse, Night, shuts to the door, 
Draws down the star-pinned curtains of the west, 
Hushes the birds and all the flowers to rest. 
Puts out the lights, and brings us peace once more. 

Then we, our heads in our earth-cradle laid, 
Trust all to her strong arms and watchful care. 
While suns and planets rock us in our sleep. 
We drift into the dark all unafraid, 
For all the eternal forces are aware 

That 'tis the Universe's child they keep. 



36 NATURE 



THE SUBLIME 

T~\ WELLS the sublime but on some mountain- 

^ height, 
Where, standing lone, near neighbor to the sky, 
One looks sheer down the steep immensity 

Where breaks a soundless torrent on his sight ? 

Come with me when a million stars are bright ; 
Stand on a plain where neither hill nor tree 
Breaks the wide level far as eye can see. 

And feel the earth sweep onward through the night ! 

Behind, the low, flat reaches of the sand ; 
Before, the measureless, wide-heaving sea ; 
Far out, one lone ship, with its human life : 
Then, while the rhythmic beat upon the strand 
But makes the silence awful, tell to me 
What cares the Universe for all our strife ! 



LIFE 



LIFE'S WONDER 

'HPIS "vanity of vanities " : thus said 
-*• Tlie Preacher, in the ages long since dead. 

And "vanity of vanities," the cry 
Rings on the air of every century. 

The worldUng, pleasure-worn, toil-wearied, asks, 
"Is life worth living," with its weary tasks ? 

Religion, with her faithless moan, appears. 
And says, The world is but "a vale of tears." 

"O fools and blind ! " the wonder-feast to spite, 
Whose own wild folly's dulled your appetite ! 

A blind man through a wondrous picture hall 
Went muttering about each " empty wall." 

A deaf man, when a symphony was sung, 

Much marvelled at each mute and voiceless tongue. 



38 LIFE 

And one, whose sense of smell was lost, deplored 
Their folly who the odorous rose adored. 

And one, heart-shrivelled by his heartless loves, 
Mocked at young lovers and at cooing doves. 

And one, who talked of solid facts, oft smiled 
At those by poetry and art beguiled. 

" O fools and blind ! " The farmer wonders why 
The scholar studies, with admiring eye, 

The tiny scratches on the boulder's top, 
Whose huge obstruction only hurts his crop. 

Meanwhile, the scholar in the boulder sees 
The wondrous story of lost centuries. 

The stolid Arab, under desert skies. 
Sees where afar the Pyramids arise ; 

But on their rocky, weather-beaten page. 
Reads not the strange tale of a buried age. 

The peasant by the Swiss lakes sees not there 
The pile-raised village lift itself in air. 

And bones and arrow-heads are rubbish all 
To him who hears no far-off ages call. 

From out the silence of the past, to say, 
"We were the fathers of your glad to-day." 



life's wondkr 39 

( )h, wonder of the world, whose surface bright 
Fills wide-eyed childhood with a fresh delight! 

Beneath the surface, to exploring eyes, 

Deep yawns to deep, and heights on heights arise. 

Each grass-blade and each gaseous atom holds 
An infinite mystery, that his thought unfolds 

Who knows each molecule the kinsman is 
Of every star- ray piercing the abyss. 

And not one lowly blossom in the vale 
But to the instructed ear can tell a tale, 

Whose opening chapter was the eternal past, 
And is not done while endless ages last. 

Short is his fathom-line who thinks he sounds — 
And finds it shallow^ — being's dread profounds. 

The emptiness is in the pool that lies 

Too shoal to hold the stars and boundless skies. 



Oh, when I look upon the laughing face 
Of children, or on woman's gentle grace ; 

Or when I grasp a true friend by the hand, 
And feel a bond I partly understand ; 



40 LIFE 

When mountains thrill me, or when by the sea 
The plaintive waves rehearse their mystery 

Or when I watch the moon with strange delight, 
Treading her pathway 'mid the stars at night ; 

Or when the one I love, with kisses prest, 
I clasp with bliss unspoken to my breast, — 

So strange, so deep, so wondrous life appears, 
I have no words, but only happy tears ! 

I cannot think it all shall end in naught; 
That the abyss shall be the grave of thought ; 

That e'er oblivion's shoreless sea shall roll 
O'er love and wonder and the lifeless soul. 

But, e'en though this the end, I cannot say 
I'm sorry that I saw the light of day. 

So wondrous seems this life I live to me, 
Whate'er the end, to-day I hear a7id see! 

To-day I think and hope / and so for this — 
If it must be — for just so much of bliss, — 

Bliss threaded through with pain, — I bless the Power 
That holds mc up to gaze one wondrous hour! 



THE WEED-GROWN PATH 4 1 



THE WEED-GROWN PATH 



O ETWEEN two hearts a pathway led, 
^^ Oft trod in joyous days ; 
And, many a time, they each one said, 
" So shall it be always ! ' 

The morning hours went singing by, 
And eve, with sunset's gold ; 

While every joy or hope or sigh 
Each to the other told. 

So near, that snatches of a song 

Each from the other heard , 
And subtle thoughts the whole day long 

Passed swiftly without word. 

So smooth the pathway grew at last 
That one would swear the day 

Could never come when no more passed 
Such loving feet that way. 

A whisper of suspicion blew. 

One day, none knew from where ; 

And each one close the casement drew : 
A chill was in the air. 



LIFE 



And now the path with weeds is grown, 

The singing birds are fled : 
In each house sitteth one alone ; 

The happy past is dead. 



OUTER AND INNER 

T MAY not saunter in the sun 
-■■ As when the days were long, 
While Summer's thousand voices run 
Through all the scale of song. 

I may not lounge upon the bank 
Where smooth the brook gleams by, 

And gaze down where the sunlight sank 
As deep as is the sky. 

I may not whisper with the breeze 

Upon the lush, sweet grass. 
And, dreaming, watch the shadowy trees 

Backward and forward pass. 

I may not build upon the clouds 

Grenada castles fair, 
Where bright-haired visions troop in crowds 

As high and pure as air. 



OUTER AND INNER 43 

I may not wander in the woods 

And smell the fragrant gums, 
Where naught of weary life intrudes, 

And only healing comes. 

For Winter, cheerless Winter, reigns ! 

The conquered Summer dies. 
Her victor lords it o'er the plains, 

And sweeps the dreary skies. 

But, driven thus within my door, 

I find a world as fair, 
In which dwell all the gone-before, — 

The wise, the good, the rare. 

Suns of a thousand summers past 

Shine on me from my grate, — 
A light from out the aeons vast 

That antedate all date. 

And all the singers of all lands. 

In type's strange magic kept. 
Wake their sweet songs at my commands. 

Where in the leaves they've slept. 

And, while I dream above the page. 

Summer is in the sky ; 
I watch the July lightnings rage. 

Or hear some brook purl by. 



44 LIFE 

I feel the soft grass 'neath my feet, 
The tree-boughs sway o'erhead, 

The air is with June fragrance sweet, 
And all the storms are fled. 

I build grand castles in the air. 
And in their portals stand 

Sweet visions of good women rare, 
And men of every land. 

I talk familiar with the great, 

I worship with the good ; 
Their true words still reverberate, 

And thrill to loftiest mood. 

And, going inward, deeper still, 

And climbing up as high. 
By hidden stairs I rise, until 

I gaze out on the sky. 

For there are windows of the soul ; 

And, listening at these, 
I hear the mighty ages roll 

That make the eternities. 

And, up through mists of blinding light, 

A way no man hath trod, 
I dare to look, till on my sight 

There dawns the face of God. 



HIDDEN SPRINGS 45 



And so I bless the winter winds 
That shut the outer door ; 

For who the inner vision finds 
Knows he was blind before. 



HIDDEN SPRINGS 

T T P on the hillside, far away, 
^^ There is a hidden spring 
That never sees the light of day. 
And where no bird doth sing. 

It darkly wells, 'mid rocks and moss. 

Lost in the thicket deep ; 
Above it, trailing creepers toss, 

And dripping dew-drops weep. 

But, down below, its waters run 
To feed the roots of flowers ; 

Where bright birds glitter in the sun. 
And sing through happy hours. 

It makes a brook where children playj 
It clothes the fields in grasses ; 

Its path is beauty all the way, 
As down the vale it passes. 



46 LIFE 

The mill-wheels hum along its side ; 

It builds the busy town ; 
And deeply, in its glassy tide, 

The sweet stars look adown. 

How many noblest deeds of men 
Flow from the hidden springs. 

Shut all away from human ken, 
And kept as sacred things, — 

The grief-fed springs within the heart, 
All clouded o'er with doubt. 

Where death our treasures smote apart. 
And healing tears gushed out ! 

The graves of loved ones far away, 
Up the dim track of years. 

Still nerve the purpose of to-day 
To rise above our fears. 

Oh ! many a tender word is said. 
And gentle deed is wrought, 

In memory of the cherished dead 
That live still in our thought. 

The orphans, that the mother love 
Of childless mothers saves, 

May thank the grief that bends above 
The newly sodded graves. 



HIDDEN SPRINGS 47 

And many a man, whose noble fight 

For truth has lifted men, 
Knows some dead loved one's deathless might 

His motive power has been. 

O tear-fed, hidden springs that well 

Up from the heart's great deep, 
The world its debt can never tell 

To those that work and weep, — 

That work out in the open day. 

That weep when none are nigh, 
And only by sweet deeds betray 

The heart's sad mystery. 



48 LIFE 



DOUBT 



>'T^IS nature's law : that, once at rest, 
-■■ The boulder should forever lie 
Unmoved beneath the placid sky, 
Asleep upon earth's quiet breast ; 

That, once in motion, worlds shall sweep 

Forever on their destined way ; 

That, through the night and through the day, 
Unswerved their pathways they should keep. 

And so the mind of man would cling 
Forever to its old-time faith. 
Whatever word the new age saith, 

Whatever light the new suns bring. 

Unquiet are the waves of doubt 

That toss forever round the world. 

On which our restless ships are whirled 

As tides flow in and tides flow out. 

But, rotting on the oozy strands. 

Our ships would crumble and decay, 
Did not the waves about them play. 

And sweep them off to other lands. 



MOTHERHOOD 49 



MOTHERHOOD 

r^ SWEET, delicious motherhood ! 
^-^ I, even I, am part — 

I feel it next my heart — 
Of that strange power that worlds did brood, 

In which all life doth start. 

It is the mighty God, I know. 

Who thrills my being through, — 
He lives in star and dew — 

And, as June roses bud and blow, 
So bids me blossom too. 

Within my soul the sacred root 

Of this new life runs down, — 
Sweet love the seed hath sown — 

Thence upward grows and comes to fruit, 
And all my life doth crown. 

I am become creator then : 

God's secret I can guess, — 
O wondrous happiness ! — 

I stand, the mother proud of men, 

That strong: sons love and bless. 



50 LIFE 

Close at the universe's core, 

And out through all its range, — 
It rules life, death, and change — 

This secret lives forevermore. 

Sacred, divine, and strange. 

The soul that doth this burden miss, 
Unlinked in being's chain, 
It seeks a fancy vain — 

Shirking God's care, life's keenest bliss 
Loses, nor finds again. 

The cradle is God's purest shrine : 
At this fair fount of life, — 
Hush here, O world, your strife ! 

Bow with veiled eyes, and call divine 
The mother crowned as wife. 



(^ 



ONE LEFT TI 



ONE LEFT 



n^HE one babe lost is the one babe left ; 
•*■ The others are grown and gone away. 
So cruel it seemed when first bereft, 
Yet the lost is the only one left to-day ! 

I watched them grow out of my longing arms, 
While each in turn lost the baby face : 

The years fled away with those winsome charms, 
And manhood and womanhood took their place. 

And now they've made them homes of their own. 
While I by the fireside rock and dream : 

And, oh, I should be so all alone, 

Did not the past like the present seem ! 

But, while I am rocking, my babe again, 
That I lost, far off in the dimming years, 

I clasp with the joy that is kin to pain, 
And water my dusty heart with tears. 



I 



52 LIFE 



THE EMPEROR'S HAND 

THAT hand, that with its shaping force 
Had moulded empires at its will, 
Or stayed at flood the people's course, 

Or tempests hushed with, " Peace, be still 

That hand that over Lodi's bridge 
Cleft through the leaden storm a path, 

And on the Alpine summit's ridge 
Defied the eternal ice king's wrath, — 

That hand now pats his horse's mane 
As on he rideth through the town : 

The people's shout breaks out again, 
But at his horse he looketh down. 

So sometimes does a tempest hush, 
When it has had its stormy hour. 

To whisper with a wayside bush 
Or lovingly caress a flower. 

That hand, that shook a continent. 
That Europe bent beneath its sway, 

In lone St. Helen's discontent 
It wiped an Emperor's tear away. 




HELIOTVFE PRINTING CO., BOSTON 



THE POETS S3 



THE POETS 

O POETS, seated on Parnassus' height, 
Or ranged in groups upon its sides ! I hear 
Your deathless songs hummed low, or ringing clear 
To drown the world's noise in your sweet delight. 
And glad am I to keep you still in sight, 

Though to your high seats I may not come near. 
For, as the stars do make the heavens dear, 
While we on earth walk through the dreary night ; 

So dost thou shine upon us, and send down 
The music of thy rhythmic motions sweet 
To make us know that harmony still reigns. 
Could I but trust thou wouldst not on me frown, 
I'd climb up to the footstool of thy seat, 
And with my pipe re-echo thy glad strains. 



54 



LIFE 



A BLOCK OF MARBLE 

T 1 fHITE possibility ! Before thee now, 
* * With chisel and with mallet in my hand, 
A musing artist, hesitant I stand. 
And wonder with what shape I'll thee endow, — 
A grand Athene, with majestic brow ; 
A raging Fury, with her flaming brand ; 
Diana, leading on her huntress band ; 
Or sea-nymph sporting round some rippling prow ? 

Or shall I carve out Aphrodite fair. 

Who melteth with her eyes the hearts of men ? 
Or, better yet, I'll make a Victory, 
Whose upward look shall rouse men from despair. 
Discouraged souls thrill with new hope again, 
And give them strength to breathe a nobler air. 



I 



UNKNOWN HEROES 55 



I 



UNKNOWN HEROES 

IKE to sweet perfume, that on all the air 

Is blown on every breeze, and greets the 
sense 
Of every passer, without recompense. 
While yet the flowers are hid, none knoweth 

where, — 
Though right well knowing they are fresh and 
rare, — 
Because some high wall doth their beauty fence 
From off the world's highway, in thickets dense, 
That seek to cover what the winds declare, — 
So is the atmosphere we breathe to-day. 
Of liberty and goodness, filled with life 

For common lungs to drink,— they know not 
why, — 
Because of unknown heroes, who alway. 
Although unseen, stand firm in noble strife, 
And know, for truth, both how to live and die. 



56 



DECORATING THP: SOLDIERS' GRAVES 

A SILENT bivouac of the dead, we say, 

While on the low green tents we lay our flowers, 
And with soft tread we take our reverent way 
Past where each seems to sleep away the hours. 

A silent bivouac ? Nay, they sleep not here : 

They have passed on ; and, gleaming bright ahead. 

Their camp-fires on yon heights of truth appear, 
Lighting the way that coming feet shall tread. 

Their shot-torn flags still wave upon the air. 
There where some new heroic deed is done ; 

And, echoing loud, their shout still ringeth where 
Some new field waits, by brave hearts to be won. 

The brave die never, though they sleep in dust : 
Their courage nerves a thousand living men, 

Who seize and carry on the sacred trust, 
And win their noble victories o'er again. 

Their graves are cradles of the purpose high 
That led them on the weary march, and through 

The battles where the dying do not die, 
But live forever in the deeds they do. 



THE TWO CONFLICTS : 1 864 57 

And from these cradles rise the coming years, — 
The dead souls resurrected, — still to keep 

The memory of those times of blood and tears, 
And carry on the work of those who sleep. 

And thus the silent bivouac of the dead 

Finds voice, and thrills with throbbing life to-day; 

And we, who softly by their green tents tread, 
Will hear and heed the noble words thev say. 



THE TWO CONFLICTS : 1864 

"\ T OT only those who've given their homes for 
^ ^ camps ; 

Who stand the lonely guard through weary nights ; 
Who boldly dare disease in noisome damps. 

That o'er their graves may flourish human rights ; 

Not those alone who bear our war-torn flag 
Through dead-strewn trenches, deep with bloody 
mire. 

Or toil on marches, where the stoutest lag, 

With souls that stay not, though the body tire, — 



58 LIFE 

Not these alone our heroes : there are those, 
Not forward in the front of fierce affray, 

Where bayonets to bayonets oppose 

The naked horrors of Death's carnage day ; 

But, though Fame trumpet not their valorous deeds, 
They fight as hard-won battles as the best ; 

There is no shout of onset ; no one heeds 
This silent conflict in the humble breast. 

Weeping and waiting, tender hearts to-day 
Taste all the bitterness of lonely woe. 

When Freedom leads for country, who shall say 
Whether is harder, or to stay or go ? 

Not all the martyrs are of camp and field : 
Home knows as noble deeds of sacrifice 

As War's red tomes of bloody records yield. 
From the pure altar of the heart may rise, 

Better than smoke from e'en Right's reeking sword, 
The smoke of hopes that Duty offers up. 

While the libation of her life is poured, 
And stricken hands hold but an empty cuj). 

'Tis often harder far to bear than fight : 

'Tis hard to crush down feelings that will press 

Hot tears from eyes blind with grief's sudden night, 
To cloak the anguished heart with cheerfulness. 



THE TWO CONFLICTS: 1 864 59 

Battles are fought by firesides, wliere grim want 
Is braved and bearded by weak woman's hand, 

That sons and husbands, fired by traitor taunt, 
May hurl fell treason from a rescued land. 

The double fight is waging; and to Him 
Who seeth all things with an equal eye — 

Though one nor death-smoke nor the dust-cloud 
dim — 
Who'll say which turns a nation's destiny ? 

All honor to the brave who fight or fail ! 

Their work shall live, their names shall perish not. 
Greet the returned ; strew flowers on death's sad 
pall; 

But let not our home army be forgot. 



^ 



6o LIFE 



LONELINESS OF TRUTH-SEEKING 

'^T^WAS ever so, that he who dared 
^ To sail upon a sea unknown 

Must go upon a voyage unshared, 
And brave its perils all alone. 

He who from Palos, toward the west, 
Sought for a new world o'er the sea, 

Sailed forth distrusted and unblest, 
While e'en his ship hatched mutiny. 

And he who, not content to sit 

And dream of far-off shores of truth, 

Watching the sea-bird fancies flit 

And wavelets creep through all his youth. 

Must sail unblest of those behind, 

And bear e'en love's reproaching tone : 

Only the guiding God is kind 
To him who dares to sail alone. 



IN BUD 6 1 



IN BUD 



T HOLD in my hand an oak as great 
-■■ As storm ever wrenched at or chopper fell 
Gnarled trunk, wide bough, and leafy freight 
All closely packed in an acorn-shell. 

My fingers clasp a harvest sheaf, 

With heavy gold head and twisted zone ; 

In these kernels bare I see the leaf 

And bending stalks of grain full grown. 

I look out where the drifted snow 

Lies cold and glist'ning 'neath the moon, 

And know there sleeps, the crust below. 
The blossom-browed, green-slippered June. 

In yon dry pear-branch, stiff and cold, 

A bud lies hid away from sight, 
That 'neath the Spring's kiss shall unfold 

Dawn-tinted blossoms, streaked with light. 

The boughs that writhe in the sighing storm, 
'Neath frowning skies and pelting sleet, 

Shall droop with sunny burdens warm. 
When long days with soft breezes meet. 



62 LIFE 

I hold a home upon my knee, — 
A laughing child with sunny eyes : 

She grows a maiden fair to see ; 
And then a chastened matron wise. 

A prince goes limping past my door, 
But find him no keen critic can ; 

The neighbors call him old and poor ; 
But he's God's courtier, rough old man. 

From out a life of work and care, 
Of crosses heavy and burdens sore, 

A soul may bloom to beauty rare 
That shall not fade forevermore. 




father: 1864 63 



FATHER: 1864 

T T E sits by the table, leaning 
-*" -■- His head on his weary hand 
His eye has that gaze of meaning 
That looks on a far-off land. 

Brown locks with threads of silver, 
A wrinkled brow of care, 

A worn-out, age-bowed figure, 
He sits in his old arm-chair. 

In his toil-hard hand a letter 
He held, and seemed to see ; 

But he saw not what he looked at. 
As he nodded musingly. 

For, as he gazed, a picture 
Of the years to come passed by ; 

And the white envelope faded 
From his future-reading eye. 

But the letter and its meaning 
Had conjured up his dream : 

He saw a joyous wedding 

Flit past with shadowy gleam. 



64 



But close behind the pageant 
A cloud came, murk and dim, 

Till, shutting out the sunlight. 
It settled over him. 

With darker edges brooding. 
It closed around the home. 

Where never more the children 
At restful evening come. 

Two will return, no, never ! 

His listening ear no more 
Shall hear their echoing footfall 

Sound through the open door. 

And now the others leave him. 
While turns his hair to gray. 

And near the long hill's bottom 
He takes his lonely way. 

Roused now, through rooms forsaken 
He walks with heavy sighs ; 

And, looking at the letter. 
The tears are in his eyes. 

He feels his dream a true one • 
His last boy's wedding-day 

Is settled by the promise 
This letter bears awav. 



A FANCY 65 



A FANCY 

T THOUGHT I was alone in some deep wood 
-*- Where matted branches, tangled o'er my head, 

Shut out the day ; and endless Night instead, 
With wide, black wings, did ever o'er me brood 
With her perpetual shadow. And a flood, 
As if the hanging heavens were rent and bled. 
Deep as sad Acheron, river of the dead. 
Rushed by forever in a voiceless mood. 

No sound e'er broke the stillness deep, unless 

Some spirit lost awoke, and with his scream 

Startled an echo, drearier, more lone 

Than when dead silence held the wilderness. 

Here did I dwell as in a waking dream 

Until the years had into ages grown. 



66 LIFE 



GOD MADE OUR LIVES TO BE A SONG 

/^ OD made our lives to be a song 
^-^ Sweet as the music of the spheres, 
That still their harmonies prol 
For him who rightly hears. 



loni 



The heavens and the earth do play 

Upon us, if we be in tune : 
Winter shouts hoarse his roundelay. 

And tender sweet pipes June. 

But oftentimes the songs are pain, 
And discord mars our harmonies : 

Our strings are snapped by selfish strain, 
And harsh hands break our keys. 

But God 7neant music ; and we may, 
If we will keep our lives in tune. 

Hear the whole year sing roundelay, 
December answering June. 

God ever at his keyboard plays, — 

Harmonics, right ; and discords, wrong 

** He that hath ears," and who obeys, 
May hear the mystic song. 



ONE LAW 67 



ONE LAW 



/^^OME with me to this mountain ! " cries the priest. 
^^ " Here God abides; and this is his High Place. 
None from this sacred duty is released ; 

No other way canst thou gain heavenly grace. 

"Here is God's altar; here doth incense rise; 

Here prayers avail to turn away his wrath. 
In vain thou seekest what proud worldlings prize : 

This way is heaven ; there is no other path."" 

'•Vain are all churches ! " cries the moralist ; 

" Thy prayers and incense fade in empty skies. 
Religions are but phantoms of the mist, 

That morning scatters when the sun doth rise. 

" Thy duty is on earth. Seek thou and find 
The laws that bind thee to thy fellow-men. 

The Eden-dreams of early humankind 

Thou mayst make facts in earthly cities then." 

Thus through the world's long ages 
The battle-cries have sounded, 

How lived and wrote the sages. 
How sophists truth confounded. 



68 LIFE 

Here priests their worship chanted ; 

Here hermits prayed and fasted ; 
Here some brave man, undaunted, 

Did deeds that still have lasted. 
Till now the world has waited, 

With longing and strong crying, 
Until the separated 

Should find their unifying. 
For He must be one power 

Who rules both earth and heaven ; 
And one law to the lower 

And to the high is given. 
There rings down from the highest, 

And up from earth's deep places, 
One voice that back repliest 

To the asking of all races : — 

" Hear me, O jarring peoples ! T am one, 
In deep abysses or in heavens high : 

One law swings the long circuit of the sun, 
And by one law the new-fledged birdlings fly. 

" Religion binds thee to my law divine, 
And this law binds thee to thy fellow-man. 

' Tis one law in the market, at the shrine : 

JSarth, heaven, — see/ they're built upon one plan^ 



NONE LIVETH TO HIMSELF 69 



NONE LIVETH TO HIMSELF 

O AY not, "It matters not to me : 
^ My brother's weal is his behoof ! " 
For, in this wondrous human web, 

If your Hfe's warp, his life is woof. 
Woven all together are the threads. 

And you and he are in one loom : 
For good or ill, for glad or sad, 

Your lives must share one common doom. 

Then let the daily shuttle glide. 

Wound full with threads of kindly care, 
That life's increasing length may be 

Not only strongly wrought, but fair. 
So, from the stuff of each new day. 

The loving hand of Time shall make 
Garments of joy and peace for all ; 

And human hearts shall cease to ache. 



70 LIFE 



THE SHADOW 

T N a bleak land and desolate, 
-*- Beyond the earth somewhere, 
Went wandering through death's dark gate 
A soul into the air. 

And still, as on and on it fled, 

A wild, waste region through, 
Behind there fell the steady tread 

Of one that did pursue. 

At last he paused, and looked aback ; 

And then he was aware 
A hideous wretch stood in his track, 

Deformed, and cowering there. 

" And who art thou," he shrieked in fright, 

" That dost my steps pursue ? 
Go, hide thy shapeless shape from sight. 

Nor thus pollute my view ! " 

The foul form answered him : " Alway 

Along thy path I flee. 
/^m thine own actions. Night and day 

Still must I follow thee I " 



ON A POETESS PUBLISHING LATE IN LIFE 7 1 



ON A POETESS PUBLISHING LATE IN 
LIFE 

IV/rOST birds sing in the morning. Freshest 
^^^ flowers 

Are piled in the lap of May or summer June ; 

But thou, sweet warbler, in the afternoon 
Hast waked a song amid the silent bowers 
That long shall echo. Never Dryad powers 

Bound on the brows of spring a wreath so fair 

As that thou weavest in the fading hair 
Of autumn. Thou art songstress of the hours 

When we would talk with nature, and would hear 
The whispers that the world's loud voices drown. 
Let this not be thy last sweet song ; for then 
The skies would weep with rain ; in silence drear, 
The birds would wait a song that hushed their own ; 
And sing no more until it came again. 



72 LIFE 



PURSUIT 

IV /T Y boyhood chased the butterfly, 
-^' -*- Or, when the shower was gone, 
Sought treasures at the rainbow's end, 

That lured me, wandering on. 
I caught nor bow nor butterfly, 

Though eagerly I ran ; 
But in the chase Ifotmd myself. 

And grew to be a maji. 

In later years I've chased the good. 

The beautiful, and true : 
Mirage-like forms which take not shape. 

They flit as I pursue. 
But, while the endless chase 1 run, 

I grow in life divine : 
I miss the ideals that I seek, 

But God himself is mine. 



YOUNG AND OLD 73 



YOUNG AND OLD 

HE sits and dreams a brave dream of To Be : 
And, while he dreams, hopes are realities, 
And the fresh glory of the eastern skies 
Holds not a cloud that his glad eye can see. 
While, in his gorgeous vision, fame and gold 
And love, and houses in broad acres, where 
Is all can make life glorious and fair 
To him, whose days are young, its meanings not yet 
told. 

He sits with backward look at what has been ; 

But little of his dreams, for they are fled. 

The winds sigh over withered hopes, now dead, 
Like fallen leaves that in the spring were green. 
The fame and gold, — oh, yes, he has them now. 

And houses and broad acres ; but all this, 

How gladly would he give them for one kiss, 
Could lips, now cold, but press it on his brow ! 



74 LIF^' 



THE COMING SHIP 

T KNOW it is coming, my absent ship, 
■^ Out somewhere over the seas unknown. 
Though it wander afar where the oceans dip 
Below the round world's edge sloping down. 

I have never seen it except in dreams, 

Or, like a mirage, in the misty air; 
And yet it is coming, and often it seems 

To be rounding the point over there. 

It is loaded down to the water's edge 

With all that the heart of man desires, — 

Rich robes and fine gold in many a wedge, 
And jewels that flash with their hidden fires. 

It is freighted with all I have ever sought ; 

With the hopes that eluded my eager hand ; 
The deeds I have dreamed, but never wrought ; 

The perfect poems my thought has planned. 

And there on the deck, looking out o'er the main, 
Are the forms of the lost ones who went away : 

I wait on the cliffs till I see them again. 
And count all the days of my weary delay. 



THE COMING SHIP 75 

And sometimes I fear they will never come back ; 

For, when the wind rises and all the waves roar, 
I fancy them driven in pitiless wrack, 

And torn on the rocks of some desolate shore. 

But, when the storm lulls, I see it anew, 
Each spar standing out against a clear sky, 

Her prow pointing homeward, her compass still true, 
And cleaving the waves as she tosses them by. 

And so I wait on, day in and day out, 

Till I look on my home-coming, beautiful barge. 

Gold-rigged in the sun, with song and with shout. 
Glide up with wide wings to the sandy marge. 




*j(i LIFE 



IN COMMON THINGS 

O EEK not afar for beauty. Lo ! it glows 
^ In dew-wet grasses all about thy feet ; 

In birds, in sunshine, childish faces sweet, 
In stars, and mountain summits topped with snows. 

Go not abroad for happiness. For see I 
It is a flower that blossoms by thy door. 
Bring love and justice home ; and then, no more, 

Thou'lt wonder in what dwelling joy may be. 

Dream not of noble service elsewhere wrought : 
The snnple duty that awaits thy hand 
Is God's voice uttering a divine command; 

Life's common deeds build all that saints have thought. 

In wonder-workings, or some bush aflame. 
Men look for God, and fancy him concealed. 
But in earth's common things he stands revealed ; 

While grass and liowers and stars spell out his name. 

The paradise men seek, the city bright 

That gleams beyond the stars for longing eyes, 
Is only human goodness in the skies. 

Earth's deeds, well done, glow into heavenly light. 



TO F. J. s. 77 



TO F. J. S. 

'T^HE flowers you sent were very fair, 

^ The spring's breath made their perfume sweet 
But with them came a gift more rare 
Than any that the senses greet. 

You thought you only put in flowers ; 

But you gave more than box could hold, — 
Cheer for the ofttimes weary hours, 

And sympathy more rare than gold. 

I speak my heart out in the crowd, 

Seeking to utter Truth's sweet will ; 
But oft the words seem lost, as loud 

Swells the world's Babel-jargon still. 

But when a voice comes back to me, — 
"One listened and was helped," — I say, 

" God did speak through me then ; and he 
Has not cast all my work away." 



73 UFB 

GERTRUDE. 1868 

{.Born Grass Valley, CaL, Aug. 15, 1866) 

T T was on an August morning, 
-^ And the index pointed seven, 
When, the bare, gray sky adorning, 
Rose the red sun up the heaven, — 
Rose up o'er the wooded mountains, 
Glowing, through the dark pine branches, 
On the streamlets and the rills 
Wandering from their limpid fountains, 
Soiled by man's use, till the hills 
Had hardly known them at the mills, 
Or as they gurgled o'er the ranches. 

All the birds knew it was song-time, 
And their little throats this long time. 
With no single note of sadness. 
Had been quivering with gladness. 

All the trees knew it was dawning ; 
And, beneath their sky-wide awning. 
Every one among their number 
Stood up fresh and glad from slumber. 



GERTRUDE 79 

Lavish summer in the vales ! 

Lavish summer on the hills ! 

Yet the cool air whispered tales 

Of snow-topped peaks and snow-fed rills. 

California's balm was round us ; 

Wild Sierra's foothills bound us. 

In the cottage vine-embowered, 

In the cottage fruit-tree hidden, 

Came the morning, weary-houred. 

Long requested, long forbidden. 

Then it was when that high Heaven, 

Which to us our love had given, 

Which through years, through any weather, 

Our blind hearts had drawn together, 

Sent from out the blue a spirit. 

Our two lives and love t' inherit. 

Fairer to us than an angel 
Came she with her new evangel ; 
Opening to our comprehension 
Love beyond all former mention ; 
Making holier what was holy, 
Dignifying what was lowly ; 
Teaching us, with sweet revealing. 
What might be creative feeling ; 
Thus that higher love explaining. 
Ever hard to man's attaining. 



8o LIFE 

Eyes has she that ripple laughter, 
Her own mother's copied after ; 
Brown and deep and full of dreaming 
When in silent thought she's seeming. 
She has curling hair that's flaxen, 
Dimpled face all round and waxen. 
Only with no lifeless whiteness, — 
Like a lily in its lightness ; 
Whiter that blue veins look through it, 
And the red blood rushes to it. 

Cupid's bow her lips informed. 

Made red with throbbing life heart-warmed. 

And their soft prattle's senseless words 

Are cheerier than brooks or birds. 

And, then, the patter of her feet, — 

Earth has no music half so sweet ! 

How desolate my study door. 

If they came tottering there no more ! 

Through one year and half a second 
Life thy trusting feet has beckoned. 
Each new day some deeper seeming 
Flits across thy face like dreaming ; 
And thy prattle grows to talking. 
As thy totter does to walking. 
Ever some new trick or notion 
Keeps thy little life all motion, — 



GERTRUDE 8l 

Testing new-discovered powers, 

Presents of the passing hours. 
All our big hearts thou art moving 
With thy small, fond ways of loving, 
Till we clasp thee with emotions, 
So surpassing all the notions 
Of thy little head so wise, 
Thou starest at us in surprise. 
Then, we look on through the years, 
Bright with smiles or dim with tears, 
Wondering if those years are bringing 
Gifts of sighing or of singing. 

But our serious meditation 

Soon gives way to consternation ; 

For, while far our thoughts are straying, 

Thou some new-found prank art jDlaying. 

Clutching at the table-cover, 

All the glass goes toppling over; 

And, as fly the scattered pieces, 

Thy triumphant crow increases : 

Clap thy little hands, and after 

All the ruin goes thy laughter. 

Baby, wilt thou hearts be breaking 

In the after years, and making 

Thy then new-found power to blight 

Theme for triumph and delight ? 



82 « LIFE 

What thy future is to be 

We may not, and we would not, see. 

Bom within the Golden State, 

Thou, out through the Golden Gate, 

Through the Indian summer drifting 

Toward the southern sun-lands, lifting, 

(As in vision beatific,) 

O'er the glassy-smooth Pacific, 

Mountain vast or palm-tree vale, 

Didst thy first life-voyage sail. 

So, as thy first voyage begun, 
Sail thou on toward the sun ! 
Gentlest breezes, round thee blowing. 
Speed thee to some fair clime going ! 
Clouds and storms affright thee never, 
But blue skies be o'er thee ever ! 
Till, when all the sea is past, 
Some fair port thou make at last ! 



I 



ST. CHRISTOFER 83 



ST. CHRISTOFER 

N the Monkish legends hoary 
Is there many a wondrous story 
Of the saints of elder time. 



In some still hour of reflection 
Come they like a recollection 

Of some half-forgotten rhyme. 

Though by wiser times forbidden 
Sober credence, in them hidden 
Many a noble lesson lies. 

One of these my mind has haunted, 
And my thoughts, unbidden, chanted 
While half-slumber held my eyes. 

In the days long since departed 
Lived a giant, noble-hearted. 

Who " The Greatest " king did seek. 

Noticed he one day how faster 
Came the breath of his proud master, 
And the color left his cheek, 



84 LIFE 

When the DeviPs name was spoken. 
Knew he then by this dread token 
There was one his King did fear. 

Sought he then until he found him, 
And to his dread service bound him, 
Following him for many a year. 

One day, in the stormy weather. 
Marched they o'er the blackened heather, 
When the infernal host aside 

Sudden turned, confused and flurried, 
And their trembling ranks they hurried 
On a detour far and wide. 

Then, the giant stood and pondered 
On his great King's fear, and wondered 
Much when he the reason guessed. 

Standing where the highways parted, 
'Twas a cross at which they started, 
And a greater King confessed. 

Then, the wide world over, seeking 
This new Lord, he wandered, speaking 
To each traveller he met. 



ST. CHRISTOFER 85 

Till one evening, dark and dreary, 
To a hermit's hut, all weary, 

Came he when the sun was set. 

Him he questioned : "Woe betide me ! 
Vainly seek I one to guide me 

To the Christ King's palace high. 

" For I seek to serve the greatest ; 
And the king I followed latest 

Feared to pass his standard by." 

Answered then the hermit hoary : 
" He thou seekest reigns in glory 
Far beyond those stars of night. 

" But they serve him best who meekly 
Bear the burden of the weakly. 

Fight the wrong, and help the right. 

" Would you win and wear his guerdon, 
Bend your strength beneath the burden 

Which the Christ's poor crushes down. 

" From his throne in heaven bending, 
He will watch you, and, descending, 
One day will your labor crown." 



86 LIFE 

Sought he then some service holy, 
Where he might assist the lowly, 
And for timid ones be bold. 

All his strength he consecrated 
To the work, and thus he waited 
For the day the hermit told. 

By a rapid, bridgeless river, 
Treacherous-bottomed, rushing ever 

'Cross the pilgrims' Rome ward way. 

Massive-shouldered, danger-scorning, 
On the shore sat night and morning 
Strong Oferos day by day. 

On a piteous night and dreary, 
When the wind seemed never weary 
Chasing the storm-driven cloud, 

In a lull, above the sighing 
Of the chafing tree-boughs, crying 
Rose a child-voice, wailing loud ; 

Begged him, for Christ's love, a stranger 
To befriend, and through the danger 
Bear him 'cross the turbid flood. 



ST. CHRISTOFER 87 

Rose he then where he was sleeping, 
When he heard the child-voice weeping, 
Peering through the dripping wood. 

For, thought he, " My vow is taken. 
If I sleep or if I waken, 

Ne'er to let one ask in vain." 

Though the storm and night were blinding. 
Sought he then the child, and, finding, 
Gently soothed his grief and pain. 

Danger only made him bolder ; 
While the child upon his shoulder 

Scarce a feather's weight did seem. 

His strong staff in one hand grasping. 
Closer still the fair child clasping. 
Strode he down into the stream. 

Then, the night grew darker, moaning 
For the lost stars, while the groaning 
Tree-tops wrestled with the blast. 

And, when in the middle river, 
Thought Oferos he had never 

Through such raging current passed. 



88 LIFE 

Then, — a miracle, a wonder ! 
Scarcely could he stagger under 

The strange weight that now he bore. 

Heavier grew the child, still crushing 
Down his giant strength, while rushing 
Wilder yet the waters roar. 

Wondering much the child concerning, 
But unfaltering, never turning, 

Straight he crossed the angry ford. 

When, behold, no child forsaken, 
But he sees, as one new waken, 

Stand before him Christ the Lord, 

Round his head a radiance bright'ning 
Lit the dark and paled the lightning, 
While the abashed storm fled away. 

Then, the radiant east adorning. 
Laughed through rainy tears the morning. 
And uprose the gladsome day. 

Hushed was all the air and holy, 
While the giant, bending lowly, 

Knelt before his great King's feet. 



ST. CHRISTOFER 89 

Gently spake He : *' Blest forever 
Be thy deeds and thine endeavor, — 
Both for holy sainthood meet ! 

" Thou Oferos, mighty bearer, 
Hast been called : henceforth, a fairer, 
Grander title thine shall be. 

''Christoferos, down the ages, 
Men shall call thee, while there rages 
Storm in sky or flood to sea ; 

" For the Christ-child thou hast carried, 
While the torrent never tarried, 
And the storm was in the sky. 

" Plant thy staff for sign, and growing 
It shall be a tree, while flowing, 

Like the years, the stream goes by. 

" For heaven knows no higher beauty 
Than the doing one's plain duty 
For the love of man alone. 

" And ' The Greatest ' thou art serving 
When thou seekest, all unswerving, 

Each man's welfare as thine own." 



90 LIFE 

As the years went by, and ever 
Rushed adown the turbid river, 

Watched the old saint on the shore ; 

Learning that the lordliest doing 
Is in day by day pursuing 

One's next duty evermore. 




LOVE 



DANTE'S PRAISE OF BEATRICE 

SUCH gentle awe is in her winsome ways 
That, when she greeteth others on the street, 
The gUbbest tongue in silence long delays. 
Nor dare bold eyes her star-like gaze to meet. 

Though praises follow her where'er she goes. 
Yet with humility she's ever dressed : 

She seems from heaven come, so to disclose 
The gracious bearing of the immortal blest. 

To gaze upon her beauty is to know 
The purest sentiment of reverent love ; 

While he to whom some favor she doth show 
May taste before the joys of heaven above. 

Upon her curved and gracious lips there dwells 
Soft utterance that speaketh of the sky ; 

And in her eye a sweetness that compels 
The heart to breathe its life out in a sigh. 



92 LOVE 

MY RIVER 

A Pictjire 

"P IVER, flowing through the past, 
^^ Seeming, to my childish eye, 
Cutting through the mountains vast 
Thy bright pathway from the sky ; 

River, flowing through my youth, 

Glassing in thy sunny tide 
Forms whose memory mocks the truth 

That 'twas years ago they died ; 

River, flowing in the sun. 
Ere as yet, far down thy way. 

Vexing mills and laden ships 
Give thee toil instead of play ; 

River, 'tis a picture fair 

Of an evening hour I see : — 

Rings the village church bell there. 
While we float all silently 

In our dory, — she and I, — 

Float through twilight toward the town, 
'Neath the bridge's arches high. 

While the first faint stars look down. 



DISENCHANTED 93 



O'er the boat's side as we lean, 
In the watery mirror clear 

She looks up as I look down, 
And her eye-lash holds a tear. 

Jewelled answer to my quest ! 

Lives forever that fair dream ; 
For I caught her to my breast, 

And the tear fell in the stream. 



DISENCHANTED 

A T first I thought her like a star, — 
-^^ Too far above me and too bright 
Save to be reverenced from afar, — 
A worship, not a heart's delight. 

She was an angel, flitting fair 
Through ranges of ideal life 

So high above earth's common air 
I dared not think of her as wife. 

She was a rose superb that grew. 
Shut in by walls so thick and high 

No man its dainty heart might view : 
It opened only to the sky. 



94 



LOVE 



But, now, she sits here by my side, 
Star, angel, rose no more ; but still. 

Though disenchanted I, my bride 
Does more than all my dreams fulfil. 



LOVE'S GARDEN 

THERE once was a garden with lofty walls, 
With trees and flowers and waters fair. 
Bright insects hummed , and the soft love-calls 
Of rare-hued birds on the drowsy air 

At morning and evening were heard. And here 
It always was summer. There seemed to be 

A balm in the air, and a sky as clear 
As bends o'er the lakes of Italy. 

It was in an enchanted land ; for not 

On the earth has a garden like this e'er been : 

The dreamer alone has seen the spot. 
Or ever an entrance to such might win. 

Within this garden a woman dwelt, 

Ringed round by the walls as the years went by : 
And the hours as they passed her so lovingly dealt 

They but ripened the beauty that could not die. 



love's garden 95 

The subtle grace of the lissome trees 

Sways in her form and each perfect limb ; 

And the deepest sky in the pools she sees 

Gleams from her eye o'er the long-lashed brim. 

The rippling waters and soughing winds 
Bat echo her laughter or wistful sighs. 

Each day is happy, except as she finds 
A wondering, half-felt longing arise ; — 

A longing for what she knows not. But he, 
Who wanders and waits outside, dares hope 

His whisper might tell her, if it could be 

That some day the strong-barred gate might ope. 

But high is the wall, and the gates shut fast, — 
Strong walls of old custom, and gates of law ; 

And his heart still aches as the days go past, 
And no hand the fastening bolts undraw. 



96 LOVE 



LETHE 

LET me the cup of Lethe drink 
As I to underworlds pass down. 
If I must live, I would not think, 
But that one memory would drown. 

Better than all if I might sleep, 
And be no more in all the years : 

The cup of life I would not keep, 
Since ever it has brimmed with tears. 

But since that may not be, at least 
Let me forget that dreadful day 

When in my heaven of hope there ceased 
My one star's brightly shining ray. 

It rose upon me in my night 
With such a joyous, hopeful gleam 

That, so it still continued bright, 

I cared not what else proved a dream. 



LETHE 97 

A little while it gleamed and shone 
And filled me with its dear delight : 

Then, on a sudden, it was gone, 
And I walked on in rayless night. 

A traveller, coming from afar, 
Told me a tale of how he'd seen. 

Guiding another life, the star 

That once my cynosure had been. 

My brain is maddened at the thought ! 

And, since it is no longer mine, 
Its beauty must be worse than naught, 

However sweetly it may shine ! 

No other now can glad mine eye : 
My heart has room for only this. 

And since the longing may not die, 
And life holds now no more of bliss, 

Let me at least forget ; and so, 
No longer torn with useless strife. 

Let me through all the future go 
As one who had no former life ! 



98 LOVE 



LEANDER TO HERO 

^1 THAT, Hero, is this madness of the brain, 
' ' That, at the melting of a woman's eye, 
Will count it even heaven for love to die, 

And even grudge the losing of a pain, 

If through all toil or sorrow it may gain 
The flitting smile whose light is ecstasy ? 
'Tis sure this thread, of all life's mystery, 

That to unravel we must seek in vain ! 

For this our very lives we fling away ; 

And if, one hour, upon the favored breast 
Our head caressed may lie, we care not then, 
In that Elysium, what the world may say ; 
Our one regret that, for such fevered rest. 
We have not other lives to lose again. 



TO E. — IN ABSENCE 99 



TO E.— IN ABSENCE 

A CLOUD passed over the sun to-day : 
-^^ It shadowed the windows of the town, 
And darkened the fields that stretch away 
To the edge of the forest brown. 

A cloud passed over my life to-day : 

Its gloomy shadow hung wide and dense ; 

It came, an unbidden guest, to stay, 
I can tell no one why nor whence. 

O sun of my life, my light, appear, 

And scatter the life-darkening clouds above ! 
No shadow can stay when thy face is near, 

Smiling down from its heaven of love. 



100 LOVE 



TO E. 

A TREE thou art, of foliage fair ; — 
-^*- A palm of graceful mould ! 
No other clime a growth so rare 

As this did ever hold. 

A flower thou art, with downcast look : 
Nay, thou'rt a bud half-blown ! 

Sweet dost thou make thy wayside nook 1 
I'd cull thee for my own. 

A maid art thou in whom is all 

Rare beauty of flower or tree. 
Thine eyes' deep heaven no shadows pall : 

Thy cheeks blush roses be. 

My love art thou ! on earth, 1 ween, 

Though sought I everywhere. 
No second were found to my heart's queen, 

No one so passing fair. 



THE UNIVERSE LOST FOR LOVE lOI 



THE UNIVERSE LOST FOR LOVE 



"I 



WOULD not care for fame, 
If, as the years went by, 
That light might burn the same 
That now flames in thine eye. 
From all the glory for which great ones care 
Thou couldst entice me with a single hair. 

" I would not care for truth. 

If thou wouldst but be true ; 
One certainty, — thy youth, 

Thy beauty ever new, — 
To make me this the only truth declare, 
Thou couldst entice me with a single hair. 

" I would not care for good, 

If I thy smile might see. 
No man hath understood 

How mighty love can be, 
Unless he's felt the power of one so fair 
She could entice him with a single hair. 



LOVE 

" I would not care for heaven, 

If I the years could stay, 
And here at twenty-seven 

Hold thee as mine alway, — 
Though stood I at the gates, from even there 
Thou couldst entice me with a single hair." 

O mighty love, that so 

Canst fling a world aside, 
When thou art wise to know 

That Truth's the fairest bride, 
Thou wilt her grace the only grace declare, 
And let her lead thee by a single hair. 



LOVE IS IMMORTALITY 

^1 THEN in thy folding arms I lie, 

'' ^ My head upon thy faithful breast, 
I doubt not immortality, 

But know I am forever blest. 

Time then exists no more for me. 
Nor measure years the orbs above : 

I'm living in eternity^ — 

The deathless bliss of deathless love. 



ABELARD TO HELOISE 103 



ABELARD TO HELOISE 

"l IT" HEN on your lap my head is laid, 
^ ' And o'er me droop your lashes down, 
While kiss with kiss is oft repaid, 

And I look in your eyes so brown, 
I have no doubt that heaven then. 
With all its bliss, was made for men. 

For heaven dwelleth in the charms 
That hold me captive by thy side. 

If only always in thine arms 

With joys like these I might abide, 

I'd care not who above might go, 

I'd choose thy love, and stay below. 



I04 LOVE 



THE HAND 

A L(rver''s Fancy 

T^HAT hand that any sculptor 
^ Would for a model take, 
If he a fingered Juno 

Should e'er set out to make ; 

That hand whose simplest gesture 
Might bend the hearts of men, 

Drive to despair a lover, 
Or thrill with life again ; 

That hand that, were she royal. 
Might grandest sceptre hold. 

And that to touch or kiss it 

Were worth a kingdom's gold, — 

That hand, with soft caressing. 
Now lies on pussy's head. 

Oh, would that puss were human, 
And I were puss instead ! 



FATE 105 



FATE 



T LOVED, and sought the wide earth o'er, 
-*- But only met a face of hate. 
I saw ships saiUng from the shore. 
While she I sought forevermore 

Looked o'er the side. I came too late. 

Two on two continents apart, 

With no thought of each other, dwelt. 
O'er oceans, with unconscious art 
Led on, heart answered unto heart, 
Till at her happy feet he knelt. 

Though years are long and worlds are wide, 
Though long I wait or wander lone. 

The universe is on his side 

Who, patient, knows his time to 'bide ; 
And Fate shall give me yet my own. 



1 06 LOVE 



WILL LOVE DESCEND 

A HEAVEN-BORN goddess is sweet love : 
-^^" Will she descend to common cares, 

And breathe our dusty, earthly airs 
In narrow paths, nor pine to rove ? 

She'll want soft carpets for her feet ; 
She'll want rich jewels in her hair, 
From out her windows landscapes rare, 

And in must float all perfumes sweet. 

She'd weary of a petty round 

Of household tasks that every day 
Fritter and fret the life away, — 

Though husband worshipped, children crowned. 

Yes, heart that thought the heavens to scale. 
And pluck a star from her bright zone, 
Stars are too high to call thine own : 

Go seek a rushlight in the vale. 



THE CRIME AGAINST LOVE I07 



THE CRIME AGAINST LOVE 

T OVE was a judge, and he held a court 
^-^ With the culprit in the box. 
He had flung him into his jail, — Despair,- 
Close under double locks. 

The crier cried, and the court began. 

The attorney rose and said, 
" The prisoner at the bar, my lord, 

We charge, as shall be read." 

And he read a long indictment through, 
That charged contempt of love. 

" He has spoken slightingly of you, 
As I'll proceed to prove. 

" He has said, ' I'll travel other lands ; 

I'll wed my books and lore : 
Divine philosophy alone 

Shall my fond heart adore. 

" * Love is the passion of weak minds : 

I will not be its slave. 
Love is a blindness of the eyes, 

And it is reason's grrave.' " 



I08 LOVE 

The indictment through, the attorney said, 
" My lord, — whom Heaven defend ! — 

If words like these unpunished go. 
Your kingdom's at an end." 

" Speak, prisoner ! " then the stern judge cried, 

" If you have aught to say." 
" I did not know you, mighty Love ■ 

I therefore pardon pray, — 

" If ignorance may be excuse." 

"Then hear me," Love replied. 
" Go seek the loveliest one you know, 

And by her word abide. 

" If she forgives you, then will I : 

You have six months' release.'' 
And now he wanders up and down. 

And nowhere findeth peace. 

He's seen the loveliest ; but in vain ! 

He cannot bring his heart 
To risk the trial, lest he die 

If she should say, " Depart ! "' 



WHAT SHALL WE DO I09 



WHAT SHALL WE DO 

TIT" HAT shall one do with a hopeless love ? 
^ ^ If he bury it in his heart, 
Too strong for its prison it will prove, 
And burst its walls apart. 

If he bury it in the sea, 'twill arise 
When the evening love-star gleams, 

And, mocking him with its deathless eyes, 
Will haunt him in his dreams. 

If he bury himself in his books, and seek 

To hide him from its sight, 
'Twill laugh at his Hebrew and his Greek, 

And mock him as in spite. 

If he do not seek its face to flee, 

And yet no hope is given, 
'Twill make of life a misery. 

And carry hell to heaven. 



no LOVB 



THE QUESTION 

/^H, tell me how to woo and win," 
^^ The shepherd sang. The echoes flew 
Adown the vale, now loud, now thin, 
And answered only, " IVin and wooT 

" But I am not a shepherd lad, 
So tell me. Echo sweet," said I. 

" How shall my heart's long wish be had ? " 
" Had — wish you had !" was its reply. 

" No common word can make her mine ; 

No common love do I adore : 
Toward me does her heart incline ? " 

But Echo would reply no more. 



THE SHADOW ON THE BEACH III 



THE SHADOW ON THE BEACH 

T SEE it in the twilight 
^ Still moving to and fro, 
A shadow tall and stately, 
With graceful step and slow. 

I see it in the moonshine ; 

And then its texture bright 
Seems woven of the glimmer 

That makes the summer night. 

I see it when, low trailing, 
The fog shuts out the bay. 

And in the lighthouse flickers 
The ghost-lamp far away. 

I see it, tall and graceful, 

Glide o'er the hard beach sand, 

While, with their wistful sweetness, 
Her eyes turn where I stand. 

Her lips move as in speaking, 
But yet no sound is heard ; 

And, though I long to answer, 
My pulse alone is stirred, 



I I 2 LOVE 

I know it is not dreaming, 
And yet she is not there, 

Though back and forth it paces, 
The shadow sweet and fair. 

And that it is a shadow 

But makes the heart beat more. 

As well I know her footstep 
Leaves no print on the shore. 

When now she stops before me. 
The buried years arise. 

And all the past is looking 
From out the sad, sweet eyes. 

Ah, would it were no shadow ! 

Then might I take her hand, 
And tell her all my story, 

And she would understand. 

But, now, alas ! where is she ? 

I walk beside the main. 
And she walks ever by me, — 

A shadow of the brain. 



PROBLEMS 



WHERE IS GOD 

OH, where is the sea ? " the fishes cried, 
As they swam the crystal clearness through. 
" We've heard from of old of the ocean's tide, 

And we long to look on the waters blue. 
The wise ones speak of the infinite sea : 
Oh, who can tell us if such there be ! " 

The lark flew up in the morning bright. 
And sung and balanced on sunny wings ; 

And this was its song : " I see the light, 
I look o'er a world of beautiful things ; 

But, flying and singing everywhere. 

In vain I have searched to find the air." 



14 PROBLEMS 



THE AGE'S UNREST 

'T^IME was when rung cathedral bells 

^ O'er all the quiet lands ; 
And awe-hushed multitudes received 
God's life at priestly hands. 

Man questioned not the churches' word, 
Nor dared the churches' bann, 

But like a brook within its banks 
His aspirations ran. 

But brooks in mountains take their rise ; 

And mountains from the sky 
Their pouring floods receive, that all 

Man's barriers defy. 

New floods of light and truth and life 

Broke on the hills one day. 
And, pouring downward to the plain, 

Swept all the banks away. 

The flood rose over all the earth ; 

And the cathedral bell 
Rung wild alarm until its walls 

In one vast ruin fell. 



THE age's unrest II5 

The flood rose over all the earth ; 

It rose o'er hill-tops high, 
And lifted its exultant hands 

To greet the startled sky. 

This flood of questioning swept on ; 

It tested all the creeds ; 
And naught escaped but truth and love 

And human-helping deeds. 

In their new liberty men asked 

The stars their secret old 
And how the days of spring produce 

The harvest-heads of gold ; 

And how life came upon the earth ; 

What distant ages wrought ; 
And how is born within the brani 

The mystery of thought. 

And then they questioned poverty, 

Man's sorrow and man's sin ; 
And through what chemic compound rare 

Life's secret they might win. 

The stars their secret still withhold ; 

The brain thought's mystery hides ; 
And wrong and poverty remain, 

And sorrow still abides. 



Il6 PROBLEMS 

Then was it better when the bell 
Rocked the cathedral tower, 

And awe-hushed multitudes knelt down 
Beneath the priesthood's power ? 

Is life now happier than of yore, 
Since in its feverish quest 

It's lost its old-time peace, and found 
Not yet abiding rest ? 

Nay, if man be indeed a child 

Of the eternal life. 
Better than, pillowed on a lie. 

Must be an endless strife. 

For, in the eternal search for truth, 
His growing powers are taught 

To nerve their sinews till they're strong 
To scale the heights of thought. 

To sleep with perfect truth itself 
For pillow 'neath his head. 

This is his birthright to forego. 
And live as he were dead. 

But in pursuit of truth and God, 
Up height on height of time. 

Through godlike growth he vindicates 
His godlike birth sublime. 



WHAT DOES IT BRING Il7 

And none but he that's infidel 

May doubt that truth, some day, 
Will give man back a fairer earth 

Than that she swept away. 



WHAT DOES IT BRING 

A SHIP comes up from under the world. 
" What do you bring, O ship ? " he cried. 
The answer came : " 'Neath flag unfurled, 
Laughter and song, and — a fair dead bride. 



"I bring fool's jests, and — a heart's deep woe 
News of a friend, and — a word of despair ; 

I bring bright hopes from the world below. 
And a soul storm-tossed and worn with care. 

" I bring a child whose mother is dead ; 

I bring a man deserting his wife, — 
Light and shadow, and poison and bread, 

The tragical comedy of life. 

" Perhaps I bring a gift for you ; 

But do not covet it, do not shrink : 
You know not whether 'tis false or true, 

Or better or worse than you can think." 



il8 PROBLEMS 



THE HOUSE OF THE SOUL 

1\ /r Y soul still sitteth her room within ; 
-'"'-^ She goeth not out of her door: 
But she longs forever to know the world 
As it passes her house before. 

She may not go out. The universe knocks, 
And throngs all her anterooms fill ; 

But the Senses Five stand ever on guard, 
Admitting but whom they will. 

The ear leads in the wonderful sounds 

That wander her echo hall, — 
The thunder, the bird-song, the wild surf-beat, 

And the voices of love that call. 

The eye leads in the colors that glow 

In the rainbow and sunset sky ; 
The apple-blooms and the tinting of cheeks, 

And love-looks that never die. 

And the touch and taste and smell, each one 
Seeks out the guests that it knows ; 

But only now and then one of the throng 
To the high, inner chamber goes. 



THE HOUSE OF THE SOUL 119 

And so my soul sitteth her house within, 

While the universe passes without ; 
Of the thronging shapes she catches a glimpse, 

Or hears a far-echoing shout. 

She waits and listens, and ever she longs 

To see all things real, as they are ; 
But the doors of her house are thick and strong, 

And fastened with life's firm bar. 

She knows there are voices she never hears. 

And colors she never sees ; 
She knows that the world has numberless doors 

Of which she has not the keys. 

She fears she knows nothing as it is, 

But shadows and echoes only ; 
So up and down through her rooms she goes, 

Wistfully longing and lonely. 

And she cries : " Shall I never know the world 

That passes so near to my door ? 
Shall I never find out the things to be, 

Or the things that were of yore ? 

" Shall I never thrust back the wards that lock 

The innermost heart of things ? 
Shall I never break down my narrow walls 

Or expand my prisoned wings ? 



PROBLEMS 



" Perhaps — who knows? — I may fly one day, 

And, alight on some fairer star, 
Where shadows are only mists of the past 

I may see things as they are." 



THE ANCIENT 

'X 1 TITH the ancient dwelleth wisdom," 
^ ^ So the proverb long has run ; 
But w^here is it dwells the ancient, — 
In what clime, beneath what sun ? 

Looking for the temple hoary, 
Down the ages past men go, — 

Listening for the far-off whisper. 
Thus the sacred lore to know. 

But from out the early twilight 

Of the earth's primeval time. 
Wrecks of kingdoms and religions. 

Lisping love and stammering rhyme, 

Speaks no orbed and finished wisdom ; 

From the sky no final word : 
Tongues confused and fragments muttered 

Only childish voices heard. 



THE ANCIENT 121 

But down from the heavens fallinj 



"&' 



On the fresh winds whispering clear, 
Comes a voice that earnest crieth, 
" ' He that hath ears, let him hear ! ' 

" Lo, ye seek in vain that follow 
Back the path the past hath trod : 

Stand upon thy feet and listen 
What to-day commandeth God. 

" Seek ye wisdom in the cradle ? 

Know ye not the earth's young morn 
Bent above the primal jungle. 

Where, in twilight, man was born ? 

" Childish wonder, childish questions, 
Childish guesses after truth, 

Fickle gods and freakish nature, — 
These the fancies of his youth. 

" Only now at last he standeth 
On the border of his prime. 

Looking up the ages leading 
To the far-off heights of time. 

"For old age, you've taken childhood ; 

Childhood's lisping counted wise ; 
Babblings of the cradle reckoned 

Wisdom flowing from the skies. 



PROBLEMS 

" Would you hear earth's grown-up wisdom ? 

From the cradle turn away ; 
Put the past behmd ; look forward ; 

Ask th' opinion of to-day. 

" Now, of all times, is the eldest : 
This hour in her hand doth hold 

Garnered fruit of all the ages. 
All their sifted grains of gold. 

"'With the ancient dwelleth wisdom': 
Seek then where the ancient dwells. 

Hear To-day; and, bending forward. 
Catch the truth To-morrow tells. 

" For each round upon Time's ladder, 
Sloping upward toward the light, 

Brings thee nearer to the temple 
Wherein dwells th' eternal Right." 



MV BIRTH 123 



MY BIRTH 



T HAD my birth where stars were born, 
-*■ In the dim aeons of the past : 
My cradle cosmic forces rocked, 
And to my first was linked my last. 

Through boundless space the shuttle flew, 
To weave the warp and woof of fate : 

In my begetting were conjoined 
The infinitely small and great. 

The outmost star on being's rim. 
The tiniest sand-grain of the earth, 

The farthest thrill and nearest stir 
Were not indifferent to my birth. 

And when at last the earth swung free, 

A little planet by the moon, 
For me the continent arose. 

For me the ocean roared its tune ; 

For me the forests grew ; for me 
Th' electric force ran to and fro ; 

For me tribes wandered o'er the earth, 
Kingdoms arose, and cities grew ; 



124 PROBLEMS 

For me religions waxed and waned ; 

For me the ages garnered store ; 
For me ships traversed every sea ; 

For me the wise ones learned their lore ; 

For me, through fire and blood and tears, 
Man struggled onward up the height. 

On which, at last, from heaven falls 
An ever clearer, broader light. 

The child of all the ages, I, 

Nursed on th' exhaustless breasts of time 
By heroes thrilled, by sages taught, 

Sung to by bards of every clime. 

Quintessence of the universe, 

Distilled at last from God's own heart, 

In me concentred now abides 
Of all that is the subtlest part. 

The product of the ages past, 
Heir of the future then, am I : 

So much am I divine that God 
Cannot afford to let me die. 

If I should ever cease to be, 

The farthest star its mate would miss. 

And, looking after me, would fall 

Down headlong darkening to th' abyss. 



THE FORBIDDEN SONG 1 25 

For, if aught real that is could cease, 

If the All-Father ever nods, 
That day across the heavens would fall 

Ragnarok, twilight of the gods. 



THE FORBIDDEN SONG 

'npiS said, in old Granada, 
-*■ Then held in captive bands, 

Enslaved in their own city. 
Held down by foreign hands, 

When once, in accents plaintive. 
The old songs rose in air, 

The people from their houses 
Rushed out in mad despair. 

The songs brought back the freedom 
Once theirs in days of yore, — 

A freedom only sleeping, 

Though now enjoyed no more. 

Then passed a law these tyrants. 
Who feared a singer's breath, 

That none might sing forever 
That song, on pain of death. 



26 PROBLEMS 

So human souls, fast fettered 
By custom old and creed, 

Are only drugged and sleeping, 
And waiting to be freed ; 

And, when the song of freedom 
Some bold voice grandly sings, 

They fee) within them stirring 
Their long unused wings. 

A far-off recollection 

Of birth-rights lost arise. 

Of that diviner sonship 

Which links them with the skies. 

So, lest the priesthood totter, 
And souls their freedom gain. 

This song divine's forbidden, 
On threat of endless pain. 



THE PEOPLE 127 



THE PEOPLE 



/^H, placable and patient race, 
^^ Thy burden bearing through the years, 
How often marred with grief thy face, 
How oft thine eyes are dim with tears ! 

How patient art thou with thy gods. 
Still framing for them some excuse, 

Bending thy back beneath their rods, 
And turning pain to noble use ! 

How patient art thou with thy kings 
That rob, and fatten on thy spoils ! 

While each new year new burden brings, 
To bind thee to thy weary toils. 

Be patient still, and labor on ! 

Thy waiting is not all in vain ; 
For, see ! long hours of dark are gone, 

And, east, the night begins to wane. 

Science, man's mighty friend, has bound 
Nature's trained forces, foes no more : 

They stamp their hoofs, and at the sound 
Flies open every once barred door. 



128 PROBLEMS 

And through these doors man shall advance, 
And find free course o'er all the earth ; 

No more the slave of circumstance, 
But rising to his kingly worth. 

He claims his birthright now, and reigns : 
The Titans that o'er chaos ruled, — 

Lightning and steam, — with giant pains. 
Now run his errands, trained and schooled. 

O People, once a mass, held down, 
The plaything of the priest and king. 

You yet shall come into your own. 
And to you earth her tribute bring. 

Dethroned, the gods of wrong and hate ; 

Dethroned, the old-time kingly power ; 
Dethroned, the priesthood's selfish state : 

Reason enthroned, then comes your hour ! 

The spelling-book shall be the key 
To thrust back in the lock of fate 

The musty bolts of destiny. 

And bid you enter now, though late. 

But, on God's dial-plate of time, 
'Tis never late for him who stands 

Self-centred in a trust sublime. 

With mastered force and thinking hands. 



DEAD GODS 1 29 

The world then all before you lies : 

The stars fight for you ; and there waits 

A future where bold enterprise 

Flings open wide the long-shut gates. 



DEAD GODS 

'T^HAT man may live, the gods must die : 
^ Past crumbling altar, vacant throne, 
Man marches on to make his own 
The vantage heights of destiny. 

But, with a pang, we leave the shrine 

Where bent our father's knees in prayer : 
The shadowy gods still linger there, 

And haunt the spot with forms divine. 

But ever on the thoughtful ear 

The same voice that the fathers led 
Imperious calls, '' Why 'mongst the dead 

Seek ye the living ? up, and hear ! 

" Foolish and blind ! art not aware 
That idols may be carved in thought ? 
Not all are by the graver wrought ; 

But most, of fancies light as air. 



30 PROBLEMS 

" Of Him \vho is the Infinite 

Man's mind can but an image frame ; 
And by whatever sacred name 

You call the image, still new light 

" Shed on the world, or on the mind, 

Forever antiquates the old. 

If ever larger life unfold, 
The childish must be left behind. 

" Dead gods are but dead fancies then, — 

Ideals of a larger truth 

Than earth had brain-room for in youth, — 
That cannot feed the coming men. 

" Up then, and on ! the past is past, 
And it was well ; but now arise 
New visions of the earth and skies, — 

A universe so grand and vast 

" Old gods, old systems, and old creeds 
Seem but as playhouse schemes and ways, 
Such as amused his childhood days. 

To one now ripe for manly deeds. 

" The orods are dead ! but God abides ! 

And man and his high hopes are here ! 

Cringe to the ghosts no more in fear ; 
But 'tween the ghosts and God choose sides ! 



AT SEA 131 



AT SEA 



T 'VE waked up on mid-ocean, but to find 

-■■ My ship far out from that mysterious port 

Where anchor first was weighed. I look behind, 

Along my white track that fades into blue, 

And see the round rim of the swinging world 

Closed in by far-off skies that seem to melt, 

Blue kissing blue, into their counterpart, — 

The all-encircling sea. I know not now 

In what strange land my being had its birth ; 

What forests fell to build my wondrous ship ; 

What skilled hands fashioned it ; adown what ways. 

And by what shouts accompanied, it leapt 

To join the element for which it yearned. 

I lean across the rail, and call to those — 

My voyage companions — that along with me 

Sail on the same strange journey, but in vain. 

They but repeat my question, and beseech, 

If I remember aught, to tell them whence, 

And by what impulse urged, we started out 

To go — none knovveth whither. 

For we turn. 
And looking onward o'er the untried sea, 
With equal wonder in our eyes, we strain 



132 PROBLEMS 

To gain some glimpse of countries still before. 
Toward what port drives on the unseen power 
Whose hand is on the wheel no man can tell. 
Strange lands fall off — as we pursue our way — 
To right and left, and sink behind the sea. 
New constellations glitter in the skies, 
Strange skies to us, in turn outsailed for new ; 
And still right on, toward what lands we dream, 
But only dream, since never man may know. 

But yet I tremble not ; or, if I do, 

'Tis only with some fresh expectance keen 

Of what shall next befall. For wonder strange 

Doth swallow up all fear, and bids me wait. 

On tiptoe with on-looking eyes, to see 

What new mirage shall tremble on the air, 

Or what new land shall rise above the main. 

The whence, the whither, I may answer not ; 
But, ne'ertheless, the present hour is mine. 
I will not fling away this grand to-day, 
Because the wondrous, circling infinite 
Doth swallow up beginning both and end. 
Ifeel^ I see, I hear, I think ; and this. 
The grand fact of existence, is so strange. 
No other marvel can appall me now. 
I face the infinite, and feel the thrill 



AT SEA 133 

That tells me with its nature I am kin. 

The waters answer to me, and the skies 

Bend loving down to kiss me with their winds ; 

And the great stars, that, when the sun is gone, 

Gleam out of silent spaces, lift me up 

And tell me that 1 sail the same grand blue 

Through which they range the orbit of their life. 

And when the mighty sun broods his red wings 

Above the broad expanse of gleaming sea, 

And gives me back the island's darkness stole, 

I shout with life exultant ; then sit still 

To drink in all the beauty of the world, 

Until the joy brims o'er my eyes in tears. 

The happy lands, the trees, the birds, the brooks 

Down dancing with their caps white-plumed with 

spray ; 
The mountains that will climb the heavens to catch 
The coming dawn, or kiss the evening star ; 
The moon that loves her shadow in the sea, — 
All these, the unsolved mystery of the world. 
So fill the hours with thought, so thrill my soul 
With hints of that almighty power that hides 
Behind this scenic majesty, that oft 
I half-desire to wake — if dream this be. 
And death be waking — that with open eyes 
I may discern the strange reality. 
So wondrous is this ocean that I sail ; 



134 PROBLEMS 

So wondrous is the ship, and all the scene 
Of sky and landscape ; so more strange than all 
This seeing, feeling of the enigma, self, — 
I cannot doubt that there, behind the scenes, 
Some master-player sits, who knows the end, 
And knows it worthy of this grand display. 

So I will wait, and look, and take delight 

In all the passing pageant ; and at last. 

When falls the curtain, it shall be upon 

A deftotte??ient to solve the mystery. 

And make me glad that I played out my part. 



THE VILLAGE "INFIDEL" 

npHEY knew not what to do with him. 
■^ If all the creeds were true, 
He should have been, in all the town, 
The worst man any knew. 

He only smiled at Adam's sin, 
And said he'd ne'er consent 

That one he never voted for 
His soul should represent. 



THE VILLAGE " INFIDEL " 135 

And though he should have been depraved 

To help their logic out, 
His life was blameless found, in spite 

Of all his dreadful doubt. 

They tried to make him penitent ; 

But he would only say, 
" I seek to help my fellow-men, 

And do my best each day." 

And, when they of atonement spoke, 

He said, " I cannot see 
How punishing another makes 

A better man of me." 

And, when his reason they decried, 

He said, " Although my eyes 
Sometimes deceive, to put them out 

Seems to me hardly wise." 

And when at last, all patience gone, 

They said he'd go to hell. 
He said, " Where sense and duty lead. 

The end must sure be well. 

" Tradition may be false or true, 

But God is living still ; 
And in the laws of earth and man 

He writeth down his will. 



136 PROBLEMS 

*' And, as I read, He bids me seek 
These laws and them obey. 

Thus where I see his footsteps lead 
I follow as I may. 

" If I can build God's kingdom here. 
His reign of love and light, 

I fear not what the future holds, 
But know 'twill all be right." 

They knew not what to do with him ; 

For all the children ran 
To meet him as he walked the street. 

And bless the kindly man. 

The sick, the poor, revered his name, 
And learned the hand to bless 

Which ever was wide open held 
To scatter happiness. 

And one, more bold than others, said, 
"If he's not Christian, then 

He's surely something quite as good 
Who loves his fellow-men." 



THE poet's art I37 



THE POET'S ART 

HE poetry is in the thought ; 

He's rich who owns a golden store, 
Or if to beauteous forms 'tis wrought, 
Or if it be but native ore." 



icnn 



So says one critic ; but replies 

Another, " Poetry's an art : 
From nature how can art arise. 

In which the maker plays no part ? 

^^Yox poefs but another name 

For one who makes ; and all must own 
That naught to be true art can claim, 

That nature ever makes alone. 

" A man with nature must combine : 
Not thought alone, but form must be 

Wrought perfect in its every line 
To make the art of poetry. 

" How is it in the painter's art ? 

Is aiming at a grand design 
True painting, though the hand impart 

Defective color, crude outline t 



38 PROBLEMS 

" In sculpture, is it deemed enough 
To hold a grand thought in the brain, 

Or must the marble's plastic stuff 

Through perfect form the thought make plain ? 

" Is music only noble sounds ? 

Or, ranging on through every key. 
Must some fine scheme, with notes and bounds, 

Shape all to some grand harmony ? 

" So poetry's not only thought ; 

But thought by fancy's fires made warm ; 
Then by some master workman wrought 

To perfect beauty's perfect form." 



THE OLD PROBLEM 

SHE had just one wee bird in her nest. 
And she loved it. oh, so dear ! 
She cooed o'er it, sang to it, brooded its rest, 
And kept it from shadow of fear. 

I saw the nest empty : the mother apart 

Sat silent, with never a song. 
The earth's oldest problem oppressed her dumb heart, 

Accusing the world of its wrons;. 



LAUGHTER AND DEATH 139 



LAUGHTER AND DEATH 

>'T^IS man alone, the plaything of his fears, 
■I Blown by the winds of fickle fate forever, 
Whose mocking destiny all high endeavor 

Turns but to nothing through the fruitless years ; 

'Tis man, whose path is blinded by his tears, 
Who seeketh always, and who findeth never. 
And who from all he loves sad death will sever ; 

'Tis he upon whose lips the smile appears ; 

'Tis he alone who laughs who also cries, — 

Laughs in the face of fate and grief and death ! 
"Read me the strange enigma! " thus I crave. 
Why, but because he knows the appearance lies, 
And storms of evil rage with futile breath? 
The smile is sunshine from beyond the grave. 



I40 PROBLEMS 



IF A SHIP, A SEA 

T WILL believe but what I see : 
"'■ The ocean is a myth," he cried. 
" I've looked on hills and vales and plains, 
But never o'er the rushing tide." 

He came where, by a river's bank. 

Men built a structure strange and hi:;h, 

With hollow sides and anchors huge, 
xA.nd masts that lifted to the sky. 

And, while he laughed these men to scorn, 
The winds blew fresh far out to sea. 

While tides flowed in and tides flowed out, 
And ships went sailing glad and free. 

The Master-builder of the world. 
Here, on the narrow ways of time, 

Rears souls so grand their range must be 
'Neath wider skies in some far clime. 



TOMORROW 14 T 



TO-MORROW 



1\ /TY head aches ! Tired of thinking, 
One forward glimpse I'd borrow. 
Dark chains of thought I'm linking, — 
Will they be bright to-morrow ? 

My heart aches ! I am weary 

Of my unrest and sorrow. 
To-day is dark and dreary, — 

Will it be bright to-morrow ? 

That golden time ! who's found it, 
That ever-sought to-morrow ? 

Cluster all hopes around it, 
Without one touch of sorrow. 

Vain fancy ! Sing thy sonnet, 

And days from dreamland borrow : 

But sun ne'er shone upon it, — 
There never was to-morrow ! 



142 PROBLEMS 



A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT 

'T^HE children are a prophecy 
-*" Of what shall one day be, 
When we a fairer land have gained 
Beyond to-day's rough sea. 

We weary, tugging at the oars : 
Our hearts grow sick and faint : 

Their younger arms the ship shall guide, 
Their shouts drown our complaint. 

We sigh, "The land is far away," 

And give the struggle o'er ; 
They'll bring the vessel into port, 

And leap upon the shore. 

The Christmas hope to us is dim, 

And God seems far away ; 
Our children's songs shall usher in 

The endless Christmas day. 



'•DO MEN GATHER FIGS FROM THISTLES?" I43 



"DO MEN GATHER FIGS FROM 
THISTLES ? " 

/^ CHRIST in heaven, if thou leanest o'er 

^^ The battlements and lookest down below, 
And seest the men who claim to love thee so, 

Is not thy gentle soul with pity sore ? 

Thy Church banns honest thought ; and evermore 
Goes up, through firm white lips, a cry of woe 
From true men, cursed because they seek to know, 

And dare to knock at Truth's unopened door. 

"Dare not to question what the past has said ! " 
So cry the priests : " Say you accept the creeds, 
Though honest thought cry shame ! Then lofty 
place 
And honor ! Else, name-slandered, e'en thy bread 
Shall fail ! " So, from thine altar, o'er his beads, 
Looks out Hypocrisy with leering face. 



144 PROBLEMS 



INFIDELITY 

WHO is the infidel, but he who fears 
To face the utmost truth, whate'er it be ? 
Dreads God the light ? and is his majesty 
A shadow that in sunshine disappears ? 
Or leads he on the swift-ascending years 
Into a light where men may plainer see ? 
He trusts him best, to whom the mystery 
Hides nothing dangerous ; who ever hears, 

With faith unshaken, his new-uttered voice. 
And knows it cannot contradict the truth 
It in the old time spoke. Whate'er it saith, 
He fears not then, but bids his heart rejoice, 
In old age trustful as he was in youth. 
This only, though called infidel, is faith. 



CALIBAN 145 



CALIBAN 

QINCE man with his own heart must feel, 
^ With his own eyes must see, 
He makes the world in which he dwells 
Or good or bad to be. 

From his own substance, he secretes 

His own enclosing shell, 
And shapes the voices from without 

That must life's meanings tell. 

And, if the wondrous world is small 

And mean to Caliban, 
We only need to turn and ask, 

IV^af is it to a man 1 



PERSONS 

JAMES A. GARFIELD 

{Sept. 27, 1881) 

WITH finger on lip and breath bated, 
With an eager and sad desire, 
The world stood hushed, as it waited 
For the click of the fateful wire. 

'■^Better,'^ and civilization 

Breathed freer and hoped again. 

" Worse," and through every nation 
Went throbbing a thrill of pain. 

A cry at midnight and, listening, 

''Dead!'' tolled out the bells of despair; 

And millions of eyelids were glistening 
As sobbed the sad tones on the air. 



JAMES A. GARFIELD 1 47 

But who is he toward whom all eyes are turning ? 
And who is he for whom all hearts are yearning ? 

What is the threat at which earth holds its breath 
While one lone man a duel fights with death ? 



No thrones are hanging in suspense, 
No kingdoms totter to their fall ; 

Peace, with her gentle influence, 
Is hovering over all. 

'Tis just one man at Elberon 

Who waiteth day by day, 
Whose patience all our hearts has won 

As ebbs his life away. 

His birthday waked no cannon-boom ; 

No purple round him hung : 
A backwoods cabin gave him room, 

And storms his welcome sung. 

He seized the sceptre of that king 
Who treads a freehold sod ; 

He wore upon his brow that ring 
That crowns a son of God. 

By his own might he built a throne, 

With no unhuman arts. 
And by his manhood reigned alone 

O'er fifty million hearts. 



148 PERSONS 

Thus is humanity's long dream, 
Its highest, holiest hope, begun 

To harden into fact, and gleam 
A city 'neath the sun, — 

A city, not like that which came 
In old-time vision from the skies. 

But wrought by man through blood and flame, 
From solid earth to rise, — 

Man's city : the ideal reign 

Where every human right hath place ; 
Where blood, nor birth, nor priest again 

Shall bind the weary race ; 

In which no king but man shall be ! 

'Twas this that thrilled with loving pain 
The heart of all the earth, as he 

Died by the sobbing main. 

For, mightiest ruler of the earth, 
He was the mightiest, not because 

Of priestly touch, or blood, or birth. 
But by a people's laws. 



O Garfield ! brave and patient soul ! 
Long as the tireless tides shall roll 
About the Long Branch beaches, where 
Thy life went out upon the air, 



JAMES A. GARFIELD 1 49 

So long thy land, from sea to sea, 
Will hold thy manhood's legacy. 

There were two parties : there were those, 
In thine own party, called thy foes : 
There was a North, there was a South, 
Ere blazed the assassin's pistol mouth. 

But, lo ! thy bed became a throne ; 

And, as the hours went by, at length 
The weakness of thine arm alone 

Grew mightier than thy strongest strength. 

No petulant murmur, no vexed cry 
Of balked ambitions, but a high, 
Grand patience ! And thy whisper blent 
In one heart all the continent. 
To-day there are no factions left. 
But one America bereft. 

O Garfield ! fortunate in death wast thou. 
Though at the opening of a grand career 1 

Thou wast a meteor flashing on the brow 
Of skies political where oft appear 

And disappear so many stars of promise. Then, 
While all men watched thy high course, wondering 

If thou wouldst upward sweep or fall again, 

Thee from thine orbit mad hands thought to fling ; 



150 PERSONS 

And, lo ! the meteor, with its fitful light. 
All on a sudden stood and was a star, — 

A radiance fixed, to glorify the night 

There where the world's proud constellations are. 



VANINI 

1609 

00 late, Vanini, and so near the age 

^ We dare to boast from superstition free ! 

We might forget such things could ever be, 
And blot them out of history's bloody page, 
Were not the fangs shown now in impotent rage 

That in thy flesh were set so fatally ! 

They did thy tongue tear out ; and, binding thee 
Amid the faggots, paid thee fiery wage, 

Because thou daredst assert a nobler God 

Than that fierce Moloch that, in Christ's dear 
name. 
They set up as thy judge to punish thee. 
The same truth that thou saw'st became a rod 
To beat to dust their idol ; and the flame 

That burnt thee burnt man's bonds and set 
him free. 



GALILEO 



151 



GALILEO 

\/'ES, Galileo, yes, " the world does move ! " 
^ When, on thy knees, in Europe's twilight hour. 
Thou bendedst 'neath the priesthood's iron power. 
Who dreamed that force thy truth untruth could 

prove, — 
E'en then, swift onward in its viewless groove 

Of air, the old earth sped through shine and shower; 
Until, long hid, thy seed burst into flower. 
And sprang up glad to greet the heavens above. 

And swifter yet, since that disgraceful day. 

The world of thought has swept its orbit through, 
Till brighter skies look down on freer lands. 
The shackles of the brain now rust away ; 
The Inquisition fades from human view. 
And in its place the Observatory stands. 



152 PERSONS 



MAGELLAN 

{God''s shadow and man's authority) 

r^ GRAND Magellan, fixing thy firm gaze 
^-^ Upon God's shadow in the upper sky, 

While Churchmen call thy faith impiety. 
And hurl their curse along the ocean ways 
Thy keel is cutting toward the west, where blaze 

New constellations over unknown seas, and lie 

Worlds undiscovered in a mystery 
Unlifted, though the ages pass like days ! 

" The world is flat, for so the Scriptures read 1 " 
" Nay ! " cries the hero. " In the moon's eclipse, 
The earth's round shadow on its face I see ! 
I read God's works, which are his book indeed. 
And trust the hint that falleth from his lips 
More than all man's infallibility." 



KEPLER 1 53 



KEPLER 



T F God himself six thousand years could wait 
''- Till I was born to comprehend the scheme 
Of his wide-ranging worlds, I must not deem, 
Though long delayed, the recognition late 
Which comes to me, the seer. Slow-footed fate 
Is not quite moveless ; and the age-long dream 
Of night and darkness now the first faint gleam 
Of morning pierces. On the dial-plate 

The sun moves his bright finger; and at last 
The stars, long playing on the brain of man, 
Have set his thoughts in motion, to keep time 
With their majestic dance across the vast 
Blue floor of heaven, threading out the plan 
Of God's eternal symphony sublime. 



154 PERSONS 



DARWIN 

/^ GOD, thy Holy Church infallible " 

^^ Did place 'hee on the " Index," in the name 

Of thy son Kepler, who with single aim 

Sought out thy starry steps, and dared to tell 

Thy secret, that the world had failed to spell 

For ages. And now, once again, the shame 

Of thy true prophet, banned with evil fame, 

The chorus of the Church's curse doth swell. 

But, as did Kepler, so hath Darwin done ! 
With childlike seeking, he found out the way 
Where God's mysterious feet had trod before. 
And humbly followed. Planet thus and sun 
Hold one's high fame in keeping ; and for aye 
Men's loving lips will tell the other o'er. 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON 1 55 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON 



"OESIDE the ocean, wandering on the shore, 

^-^ I seek no measure of the infinite sea ; 
Beneath the solemn stars that speak to me, 

I may not care to reason out their lore ; 

Among the mountains, whose bright summits o'er 
The flush of morning brightens, there may be 
Only a sense of might and majesty ; 

And yet a thrill of infinite life they pour 



Through all my being, and uplift me high 
Above my little self and weary days. 
So, in thy presence, Emerson, I hear 
A sea-voice sounding 'neath a boundless sky, 

While mountainous thoughts tower o'er life's com- 
mon ways. 
And in thy sky the stars of truth appear. 



156 PERSONS 



THE PEOPLE'S POET 

{Longfellow) 

"pESIDE the farm-house, where the weary days 

^-^ Stoop 'neath their burden in the summer sun, 
Beneath the trees there does a brooklet run, 

Now still, now babbling over stony ways. 

It is so clear at noon the high sun's rays 
Glint all the pebbly bottom ; but when done 
The tired day, and evening rest is won. 

The quiet twilight through the farmer stays 

Upon the cooling bank, while round his knee 
The children frolic, and the placid brook 

Croons, rests, and lifts his weary heart on high. 
For, while the children love the brook to see, 
To him its shadows are a wondrous book. 

Whose words are stars reflected from the sky. 



R. W. S. 157 



R. W. S. 



T^EAR brother, — for I hold thee living still, 
*-^ Where'er thou art amid the radiant spheres,- 

Standing upon the threshold of thy years, 
Thou didst my noblest dream of man fulfil. 
A passion for all good ; a scorn of ill ; 

A beauty perfect as the Belvidere's ; 

A heart as tender as a woman's tears ; 
And all subordinate to a resolute will. 

Such is the dream of thee I still hold dear : 
Such do I think thee now, though long unseen. 
Hast thou forgotten since thou'rt gone awa\- ? 
Or may I still believe that thou art near. 

Clasp hands across the years that lie between, 
And hold the past a living thing to-day .? 



158 PERSONS 



OF R. W. S. EARLY DEAD 

{Aged 23) 

T T E spoke no word the world shall hear, 
-■■ -*■ And now he early sleeps, 
While o'er him watch his pine-trees dear, 
That sigh while evening weeps. 

Yet was he poet, grander far 
Than many a one whose name 

Shines from its eminence, a star, 
Whose lustre is called fame. 

For his soul was a mirror, bright 

As any placid lake. 
Wherein all fair things take delight 

Their images to make. 

His heart was full of budding thought 
That rarely bloomed in speech ; 

And rich dreams his fine fancy wrought, 
That words could never reach. 



OF R. W. S. EARLY DEAD 1 59 

The evening landscape was to him 

More than the earth and sky ; 
He saw its mystic meanings dim, 

And read its poetry. 

There was between his soul and all 

Of true, and good, and fair, 
A sympathy that heard their call, 

And spelled their lessons rare. 

The language of the storm that roared. 

And swept the northern plain, 
Or breeze, whose gentle voice was lowered 

To concord with the rain, — 

Both were to him a speechless joy. 

That melted into tears ; 
A pleasure time could not destroy, 

Worn deeper by the years. 

Long hours he lay upon the leaves 
Where branched the trees o'erhead, 

Binding his musings into sheaves, 
By memory garnered. 

The flecking sunshine patched the ground, 
The wind soughed through the pine. 

Until, lapped in the swathing sound, 
He walked in dreams divine. 



l6o PERSONS 

No book shall bear his name adown, 
To bless the world to be ; 

But in some fair land he is known, 
A prince of minstrelsy. 

For many a tongue that here was tied 
Finds sweetest utterance there ; 

And thoughts that here unspoken died 
Bloom in that sunnier air. 




POT-POURRI 



LABOR z's. CAPITAL 

n^HE Water Corporation charged 

■*■ Too high a price, the people said ; 
So they the reservoir destroyed, 
And cut the pipes the houses fed. 

But, when their passion cooled, they saw 
That it might not be always best 

T' abolish all the capital 

To lower the rate of interest. 



ALL THINGS NEW 

JZ OPERNIK'S thought a new world made, 
■*^^ Though Ptolemy's stars still shone. 
New eyes a new religion gave, 
Yet not a truth was gone. 



1 62 POT-POURRI 



HEADS AND HANDS 

A RICH man in his parlor sat, 
-^^ And talked about the labor " strike " ; 
And, in his easy, careless chat. 

Said • " Let them grumble, Tom and Mike 
We've got them ' on the hip ' ; and they 
May please themselves, — or go, or stay." 

But when the panic came at last. 

And all the wheels of trade stood still, 

He found all life an engine vast 

In which each cog its place must fill. 

'Twas then he came to understand 

The head was weak without the hand. 



BOOK COMPASSION 

A LADY wept o'er " Little Nell," 
-^^ As Dickens told her sorrows o'er. 
Just then, her servant came to tell 
A ragged child was at the door 
She looked up, brushed her tears aside. 
And, " Can't be bothered ! " she replied. 



EGOTISM 163 



MAN'S ALLY 



A^HO lifts a sail invites the sun 
^ ^ To take his little craft in hand ; 
And, when his voyage is o'er, may know 

The universe brought him to land. 
Who sets his foot in law's firm track 
The whole great world is at his back. 



EGOTISM 

Q AID he, " I'll follow my own way : 

^ My whims shall be my laws and guides." 

But he forgot the universe 

On every question taketh sides. 

And, when the mighty engine hurled 
His broken fortunes from the rail, 

He found one will against God's world 
Sure but of one thing, — // must fail. 



1 64 POT-POURRI 



DEBT TO THE PAST 

I SEE so far because I stand 
Upon the shoulders of the Past. 
Balboa first Pacific scanned, 
Because he first, of all his band, 
Dared climb the peak that could command 
That view of ocean vast. 



A LEGAL MAXIM 

A SHIRT-SLEEVED mechanic once uttered the 
saw, — 
Just out of the court, it was dropped on the street, 
When from a rich man he had suffered defeat, — 
" He that has the most mo?iey can get the most law I " 



JUSTICE PEEPING 

IT was found that the statue of Justice one day 
Had pushed up the bandage from over one eye. 
What for ? To keep watch of the law37ers, some say ; 
But some, that she might the poor clients descry. 



THE VIRTUES OF " FIAT " 1 65 



THE VIRTUES OF "FIAT" 

T T OW many legs," a wag once said, 
XI u Would my dog have, if you should call 
His tail a leg ? Now add them up ; 
How many would he have in all ? " 

" Why, five of course," the man replied : 

The wag laughed loud, " Why, don't you know 

That, though you call a tail a leg, 
The calling wouldn^t make it soV^ 

A joke our man could never see; 

And, when he was to Congress sent. 
He soon devised a mighty scheme 

That should enrich the continent. 

He said, " If eighty-seven cents 
Were called a hundred ; and, if we 

Should say that paper's good as gold. 
Why, then, how rich the country'd be ! " 

Then all the statesmen took it up, 

Astonished at the wisdom rare ! 
They voted rascals honest men. 

And all the ugly women fair. 



1 66 POT-POURRI 



MONOPOLISTS 

''T^WAS a reformer, wild of eye, 

-*■ Who shrieked, " Down with monopoly ! 

" The vampires, Gould and Vanderbilt, 
Have all the people's life-blood spilt ! " 

Said then a quiet-looking man, 

" Suppose they use up all they can, — 

" Eat up, wear out, and give away, 
Or waste on personal display : 

" 'Tis then but little of the whole 
They spend, of all which they control. 

" The rest, nine-tenths at least, they must 
But for the public hold in trust. 

" To serve mankind they must consent. 
Or go without their six per cent. 

" The railroads, telegraphs, and all 
Must serve the public, or they fall. 



A ROSE 167 

" So, whether men be bad or good, 
They cannot help it, if they would. 

" To keep their money and to earn. 

The public wheels their wealth must turn. 

" If any man serve but himself 
And seek to multiply his pelf, 

" That he in this should e'er succeed, 
He must supply some human need. 

*' 'Tis thus we're linked together all. 
And all must stand or all must fall. 

" A miser hoards ; but just to find 
He's built a cistern for mankind." 



A ROSE 



T 



IS the rose's own beauty that makes it a rose, 
Not the rich one who owns it, nor pot where 



If odor and tinting be missing, who cares 
What garden it cumbers or what name it wears ? 



1 68 POT-POURRI 



A RICH MAN 

A HUGE pile of wealth, 
-^^ And a mansion that's fine ; 
But gone is his health, 
And his dreamings divine 

Are far back in youth. 

He has given away 
His faith in man's truth ; 

And, for many a day, 

His power to feel 

Earth's wonder and glory, 
And what they reveal, 

Has become an old story. 

For money, he's sold 

Both his heart and his brain : 
Is it strange a small part 

Of the man should remain ? 



POLITICS 169 



POLITICS 

^1 JE'VE grabbed at the money, 
^ ^ And fought for the places ; 
'Gainst the work of reformers, 
We've set our firm faces. 

We've helped our friends always, 

At duty we've scouted ; 
The gullible voters 

We never have doubted. 

So now in fine harbors 

Of profit we're resting, 
While the poor fools of duty 

The ebb tide are breasting. 

The moral is welcome 

To whoe'er will use it : 
If voters don't like it, 

Then they must not choose it. 



170 POT-POUKRI 



A QUERY 



A " LOVE of a bonnet " and elegant gloves, 
-^^- And such a dear, sweet, pretty shawl ! 
They chatter and whisper and flutter in droves ; 
But how many women in all ? 



" MEMBERS ONE OF ANOTHER " 

"PROM slums, where foul diseases hide, 
-*■ The free winds travel far and wide. 

The rich man living on the square 
Throws wide his windows for the air. 

His petted child, with every breath. 
Drinks in the viewless seeds of death. 

The rich man, bowed down by his woe. 
Wonders why God should send the blow. 

The parson wonders too, and prays, 
And talks of " God's mysterious ways." 



"AS DOVES TO THEIR WINDOWS" I7I 

But know, O man of high estate, 

You're bound up with the poor man's fate. 

The winds that enter at your door 
Have crept across his attic floor. 

If you would have " all well " with you, 
Then must you seek his welfare too. 

If even selfishness were wise, 
It would no other life despise. 



" AS DOVES TO THEIR WINDOWS " 

{Calculated for the Latitude of San Francisco) 

''T^IS said the Chinamen at last 

-■- Are turning Christian. If it's true, 
Their meek, submissive days are past. 
And " Hoodlums " yet may get their due. 

For, if our virtues they embrace, 

And our sweet gospel come to know. 

Brickbats will prove their Christian grace, 
And broken heads their virtue show. 



172 POT-POURRI 



COMPENSATION 

T HEARD a voice complaining, 
^ " Man is to sorrow born : 
No rose in any garden 

But hides a piercing thorn ! " 

Then one bowed down by sorrow, 
And bruised by fortune's blows, 

Through tears made answer smiling, 
" No fhor?t but has its rose !^^ 



F. J. S. 

T SOUGHT the year all through, 
-*■ From June clear round to May, 
To find some flower fair. 
That would not fade away. 

None was in all the fields ; 

But there's a sheltered spot 
Within the loving heart 

Where blooms Forget-me-not, 



HAWK & CO. 173 



HAWK & CO. 



JUST after his savory dinner one day, 
A prosperous hawk flew over the wood : 
There clung to his claws, as he floated away, 
A sparrow's remains of feathers and blood. 

A merchant, out hunting, observed his career, — 
A prosperous merchant as any in town : 

He saw all the little birds crouching in fear. 
And on his brow gathered an ominous frown. 

He lifted his gun with carefullest aim, 

And said : " My fine fellow, your play's at an end. 
The gods still are just : it's your turn to be game, 

Who eat up the weak and the mighty befriend." 

But, when the gun missed, the hawk took his turn. 

Said he, " Mr. Merchant, I've something to say : 
I gobble up only what beak and claws earn ; 

And that is what you fellows do every day." 

The merchant reflected, and said : " I am wrong : 
We'll make a new partnership here, you and I. 

The small birds shall flutter when we come along ; 
Or, when they are caught, the feathers shall fly." 



174 POT-POURRI 

And so it fell out that the hawk had a nest 

In which he grew saucier every day ; 
And the parson remarked how " Providence blessed 

The merchant's grand mansion out on the Back 
Bay." 

And over his counting-room door, in a frame, 

The merchant had posted, where all men might see, 

This motto in gilt, just under his name, — 
" Honest fs ever the best policy, ^^ 



HEART AND BRAIN 

(( 'T^HE truest wisdom's ever of the heart : 

-■■ The generous impulse finds the way all plain." 
Then life mistook in wasting such rare art 

Through age-long building of the wondrous brain. 



SCHOPENHAUER 

n 'T^HIS world's the worst conceivable!" he said. 

-■■ But, O philosopher, pray tell me where 
You found your plummet, — good, — the measuring 
lead 
With which you sound the depths of your despair ? 



CHRISTIAN CHARITY FOR THE JEW 1 75 



CHRISTIAN CHARITY FOR THE JEW 

A CHRISTIAN sailor beat a Jew ; 
"^*' And, while he pommelled him, he cried 
" I'll pound your body black and blue, 
For our dear Lord you crucified ! " 

But, when the Jew recovered breath, 
Said he, " My friend, do you not know 

That Jesus Christ was put to death 
Some eighteen hundred years ago ? " 

The Christian dealt another blow, 
And answered with a wrathful shriek, 

" I care not how long 'twas ago : 
I only heard of it last week ! " 

In this fine mirror is displayed 

The Christian charity of ages ; 
For such a picture is portrayed 

Too oft on history's bloody pages. 



176 POT-POURRI 

CIVIL SERVICE REFORM 

{More Truth than Poetry) 

Tl TE send a man to Congress ; 

' ^ And, plain as words can say, 
We tell him, " Serve the party : 
Get John and Mick a clerkship, 
Raise money for elections. 
Serve all things but the country. 
And you'll in Congress stay.^^ 

" But if," our deeds are saying, — 
And is it strange men hear ? — 
" You're faithful to your duty. 
If you neglect the party. 
If you your country care for. 
And try to be a statesman, 

You'll stay at home next year." 

'Tis this that needs reforming ! 

Let old experience speak : 
If you would have men faithful. 
It's hardly safe to pay them 



CREEDS 177 



With bribes for your betrayal. 
They your example follow, 
When interest they seek. 

Put not plain human nature 

To too severe a test. 
You all are daily seekmg 
For profit and for honor. 
A virtue that you scout at 
Demand not of your neighbor, 
Make duty interest. 



CREEDS 

< < T HAVE no creed : I seek but to be good. 

Fools only o'er opinions are at strife : 
The problem of the things not understood 
Is solved by him who leads a noble life.'' 

Granted, O wise one ! but now tell me how 
The sailor finds the right way o'er the sea 

Till compass teaches where to point the prow, 
And in his chart he reads his theory ? 



178 POT-POURRI 



THE KING AND THE JACKASS 

{A St07'y with an Application) 

T N the good old times, as most men view it,- 
-*■ Though I could ne'er see how they do it,- 
When Wisdom begged at Riches' gate, 
And hardly then got what she ate, 
A certain king kept at his court 
A philosopher to aid his sport, 
And, when he would a hunting go, 
To tell him if 'twould rain or no. 

One day, with promise of fine weather, 
The king and courtiers ride together. 
With knights and ladies, — a gay band, — 
And each with hooded hawk on hand. 
By chance, they meet a country John 
Riding a dappled ass upon. 
Who warned them by his donkey's ears 
'Twas going to rain ; but the ready jeers 
Of th' eagei hunters cried him down, — 
A sage is wisen than a clown ! 
But they had hardly reached the wood 
When all were drenched by the pouring flood. 



A TRUE TALE FROM ITALY 1 79 

The king rode back with wrathful look, 
Till he the countryman o'ertook ; 
And, learning the wisdom of the ass 
Whose ears foretold what came to pass, 
Turned the philosopher out in disgrace. 
And put th' intellectual ass in his place. 

Moral 
Oh, could he have known the fruits of his deed. 
Of so rash an act he'd have taken more heed ! 
The result of his making high places a scoff is — 
Every ass in creatio?i is seeking for office. 



A TRUE TALE FROM ITALY 

HE asked a priest, " Do you believe all true 
You teach the people ? " " Oh, dear, no ! " said he ; 
" But then 'twould never do to speak, you see ; 
For, though we don't believe, the people do ! " 

He asked one of these people what he thought : 
" Do you believe all priests say, to the letter ? " 
" Oh, no ! we are not fools ; and we know better. 

The priests believe, for that is all they're taught ! " 



l80 POT-POURRI 



WOMAN'S TEARS 

JUSTICE, they say, is always blind. 
That may be, but she hears ; 
For ever are her scales inclined 
By woman's sighs and tears. 

A woman's always in the wrong 

Until she cries ; and then 
The weakest cause is straightway strong, 

And there's no hope for men. 



WOMAN'S POWER 

I 

MEN say of women what they like, 
And talk like victors grand ; 
But see them bend and sue for peace, 
When woman waves her hand ! 

II 
No peasant howe'er lowly, 

No monarch howe'er high, 
But he has bowed at woman's foot 

To hear his destiny. 



WISDOM AND BEAUTY l8l 



WISDOM AND BEAUTY 

THESE sweet-lipped women rule the world : 
For, howe'er men may teach, 
Their beauty thrills a million souls 
Man's wisdom cannot reach. 



WRECKED 

THE sailor looked upon her lips 
And rows of teeth half-hid inside. 
" A sailor's fate, though stanch his ships,- 
Wrecked on the coral reefs !^' he cried. 



MAN'S CRITIC 

T T OWEVER wise a man may be, 
-'--'- So long as he is only human, 
He may not trust his destiny 
Till criticised by some true woman. 



1 82 POT-POURRI 



LOVE'S DREAM 



A FAIR, sweet face in a bonnet, 
-^^^ An eye-glance that like a star gleams,- 
And straight sing our fancies a sonnet 
That builds up a palace of dreams. 



CONQUERING THE CONQUEROR 

IV /r AN put the world he conquered 'neath his feet, 
^^^ Then, as a slave, before a woman knelt : 
Nor was the joy of conquest half so sweet 
As that which from her tyranny he felt. 



MRS. POYSER ON WOMEN 

'T^HE women all are witless ! " thus he cried : 

^ " I've said it often, and I say 't again." 
" I'm quite of your opinion," she replied : 

"The Almighty made 'em fools fo match the men." 



ESTHETIC PIETY 1 83 



^ESTHETIC PIETY 



A FAIR young lady was in deep distress. 
I sought the cause. Said she, while tears did 
roll, 
" I cannot go to church : shall lose my soul : 
For see ! my prayer-book doesn't match my dress ! " 



THE PARROT CREED 

THERE was a parrot that had learned to speak 
The language of a tribe that ceased to be ; 
And thus the parrot's words became " all Greek " 
To those who heard ; but ne'ertheless did he 

Still chatter on with zeal that did not wane. 

Who'd keep him now ? At last, it was agreed 
A wealthy church — smile not, O ye profane — 

Should buy him to repeat for them the creed. 



1 84 POT-POURKI 



PROVIDENCE 

''T^IS Providence that took the child away : 
^ You must submit in patience to his laws." 

Rather is this the thing that you should say, — 
" Rise up ; learn better, and remove the cause ! 

Insult not Providence, nor God accuse 
For ignorance and carelessness your own 

If you t' ignore life's fair conditions choose, 
Bring no complaint before the all-loving throne. 

Your self-indulgence and your idleness, 

Your own neglect the laws of health t' obey, — 

These are the seed of your life-long distress, 
And these the fountain of your tears to-day. 

Not always : for some other may have sown 

This seed whose bitter fruit grew while you slept 

But God is just ; and, at the last, your own — 
Only what you have planted — shall be reapt. 



FORTUNE 185 



FORTUNE 

A FAIR and stately china vase, 
'^^^ With choicest flowers fragrant, 
Sneered at an earthen jar, as base. 
Declaring it a vagrant. 

The jar, with modest mien, replied, 
"The virtue thou art rich in 

Might suffer, spite of parlor pride, 
Wert thou but in the kitchen." 



DEATH WIPES THE SLATE 

"V T IL de mortuis nisi bonum." 
-*■ ^ While such saws keep their station, 
A fig for sins ! who would bemoan 'em ? 
They hurt no reputation. 



TIMES 



IT SHALL BE 

Christmas, 1 87 5. 

T T was a glorious dream men had, 
•*• That God should come to earth some day, 
And, re-creating all things new. 
Should sweep the evil past away. 

And beauteous they shaped their dream, — 

The angel heralds in the sky. 
The wondering shepherds, and the star 

To lead them where the babe should lie. 

The past was darkness. The old earth 
Had travailed long in tears and pain ; 

But, when He comes^ the light shall break. 
And heaven shall dwell on earth again. 

The world, so long accurst, shall bloom 

A garden fair as paradise ; 
Thistles and thorns shall disappear, 

And only wholesome plants arise. 



IT SHALL BE 187 

The shivering figures of the poor 

Shall crouch in cold and want no more ; 

Plenty shall smile on every home, 
And joy look out at every door. 

Fierce enmity and strife shall die, 

The old-time curse of war shall cease, 

The struggles of mankind shall be 
The helpful rivalries of peace. 

The age-long achings of the heart. 
The scalding tears that blind the eye, 

The blighted hopes, the boding fears, — 
All sorrows shall be then passed by ; 

For death itself, the crudest 

Of all the ills that curse the race, 

Shall be abolished, and sweet life. 
The life immortal, take its place. 

This was the dream, a vision sweet. 
That lured the childhood of the earth. 

As, toiling up the centuries. 

It waited for the wondrous birth. 

And as each morning's vision fled, 

Still fading into common day. 
Footsore and weeping, on they went. 

Still looking for it far away. 



1 88 TIMES 

And it shall be. It may not come 

As pointed by the Bethlehem star, 
Nor as the thought of any seer 

Has shaped the vision seen afar. 

But God, who hides the mighty oak 

Close wrapped in tiny acorn-shell, 
While the slow process of the suns 

Unfolds the seed, and does it well, — 

He holds, deep hidden in the heart 

Of the unfolding universe, 
A blessing that no stress of doubt 

Shall e'er persuade us is a curse. 

Let clouds of sorrow shade the seed. 

Let it be watered long by tears. 
Let rough winds rock it to and fro, 

Let fall the dead leaves through the years ; 

Still God is in it, and it grows. 

Some day, beneath a fairer sky, 
"New earth" shall greet "new heavens," and make 

A new home for humanity. 

Earth shall be fair as Eden lost. 

Each night shall chase a gladder day, 

Joy shall drive sorrow from the earth. 
And evil shall have passed away. 



THE GATE OF THE NEW YEAR, 1 876 

This is the Christinas hope, howe'er 
Men try to shape the dream they see, 

Whether, as Grecian golden age 
Or kingdom new in Galilee. 

If we would have the vision true, 

We must not rest in dreams ; for, when 

We all are Christlike, then will come 
The " peace on earth, good-will to men/ 



THE GATE OF THE NEW YEAR, 1876 
A Vision 

IN wondering dream, before my face 
I saw a massive wall arise, 
As old as time, as wide as space. 

And high as are the star-strewn skies. 

And while I marvelled what it meant, 
And what lay on the other side, 

I saw an age-worn arch that bent 
Above a gateway opened wide. 

And on the arch's front I read, 
" Each traveller who enters here 

Finds what he pleases, stones or bread: 
I am the gateway of the year,'' 



190 TIMES 

An ancient man drew near me then, 

And said : " Look through, and think and choose. 
The past is past ; but once again 

You may accept or may refuse. 

" Before you shall in vision pass 

The new year's possibilities : 
And you shall see as in a glass 

The shapes of good and ill arise." 

I looked ; and, lo ! a battle-field 

And burning homes and death and tears ; 

And all for glory that might yield 
One man a throne above his peers. 

This passed, and in its place there rushed 

A motley, pleasure-seeking throng. 
For passion's fruits they grasped and pushed, 

Or filled the scene with dance and song. 

And, next, a market-place upsprung, 
And each man with his fellow strove 

To gain and keep, with fist and tongue, 
As if he'd never heard of love. 

A change, and now a house appeared 
In which peace dwelt, and every joy ; 

Duty and love together reared 
A home all gold, with no alloy. 



THE GATE OF THE NEW YEAR, 1 876 I9I 

And, next, a poor, bare room, wherein 
One sick I saw, and groans I heard ; 

But to the place of rags and sin 

One came with cheer, and ministered. 

This faded ; and a childish group 

Of squalid ignorance was seen. 
And with them one who seemed to stoop 

To teach them, and to make them clean. 

And here was one who made a place 

For selfish pleasure and delight : 
And there was one who sought to trace 

God's pathway of the true and right. 

And, while I wondered and stood still, 
The ancient man approached again, 

And said : " O son, choose which you will, 
To help or hurt your fellow-men. 

"Fame, pleasure, money, — all are there; 

And there, too, love and duty. Wait 
Until their claims you can compare 

Here at the threshold of the gate. 

"And then, with firm foot and brave heart, 

Fear not to enter the unknown ; 
For he who chose the nobler part 

Ne'er entered on his task alone." 



[92 TIMES 

I said, " r 11 follow duty " / and the word 
Was hardly uttered in the air 

When music everywhere I heard, 
And beauty I saw everywhere. 

And so I entered on the year. 

And, though not always understood, 
Both cloud and sunshine, hope and fear, 

Were bidden to work all for good. 



WHEN WILL HE COME 

Christmas, 1877 



w 



HEN will he come ? 

The ancient Hindu races say 
That, when the nation falls away, 
Help will shine out like a star ; 
That when some giant, demon, devil, 
The people overwhelms in evil. 
Then comes Vishnu's Avatar. 
Nine times already has he come to earth. 
Ten times, — and then the perfect world has birth. 



WHEN WILL HE COME 



193 



When will he come ? 
A captive nation dwells upon 
The river-banks of Babylon. 

What is the word they speak ? 
The prophet's eye looks down the years, 
And kindles as the sight appears, — 
" Messiah ! him ye seek. 
Lo, the Lord's anointed comes ! and then 
Shall dwell the heavenly kingdom among men." 

When will he come .? 
The Christian answers : " Long ago 
The king was born in manger low. 

Him wicked men have slain. 
And now we wait with longing eye, 
And fix our look upon the sky ; 
For he will come again. 
We pray and watch since he has gone away ; 
For, when he comes, he'll bring the perfect day.'' 

When will he come ? 
This is the old world's weary cry. 
Is man forgotten in the sky ? 

How long, O Lord, how long ! 
Hunger, disease, and tears and pain 
We plead against, and plead in vain,— 
The weak against the strong. 
The fathers wait and hope, then fall asleep ; 
And still its death-strewn way the world doth kec| 



194 TIMES 

When will he come ? 
Say not that he will never come ; 
Say not the piteous heavens are dumb. 

Deaf have ye been and blmd. 
He will not come through opening sky ; 
Ye shall not hear a victor's cry, 
Nor chariot on the wind. 
From mythic dreams and idle visions wake ! 
Your fancies falsify the word God spake. 

When will he come ? 
" Lo, here ! Lo, there ! " the foolish shout, 
And think that God will come without. 

But ever has it been, 
In spite of fabled tales that tell 
Of magic and of miracle, 
That he has come within. 
Only through man, and man alone, 
Does God build up his righteous throne. 

When will he come ? 
In times and places manifold, 
He has been coming from of old, — 

God in the leading men. 
When man broke loose from bestial bands, 
First stood upright and used his hands. 
The heavenly light broke then. 
When fire was kindled first upon the earth, 
Then God in man knew still a higher birth. 



WHEN WILL HE COME 

When will he come ? 
When iron first was hammered out ; 
When far shores heard the seaman's shout ; 

When letters first were known ; 
When separate tribes to nations grew ; 
When men their brotherhood first knew ; 
When law first reached the throne : 
Each separate upward step that man has trod 
Has been a coming of the living God. 

When will he come ? 
While you are looking far away, 
His tireless feet are nigh to-day. 

Each true word is his voice. 
All honest work, all noble trust, 
Each deed that lifts man from the dust, 
Each pure and manly choice, 
Each upward stair man's toil-worn feet do climb. 
Is just another birth of God sublime. 

When will he come ? 
He'll come to-morrow, if you will ; 
But cease your idle sitting still. 

Yes, he will come to-day. 
He will not come in clouds, but through 
Your doing all that you can do 
To help the right alway. 
Do honest work, and to the truth be true, 
And God already has appeared i??. you. 



195 



196 TIMES 



FACING THE UNKNOWN 

New Year, 1877 

r\ NEW YEAR, New Year, tell me true, 
^-^ What wilt thou bring to me, — 
Bring to me out of the heavens blue. 
Where thy bright home must be ? 

Thou comest, godlike, in a cloud : 

I cannot see thy form ; 
Is't sunshine that the mists enshroud, 

Or lurketh there a storm ? 

I stretch my hands out unto thee ; 

Oh, speak to me and say ! 
I'd know what things shall come to me 

Along this untrod way. 

The old year gave me buds to hold ; 

And while I tended them, 
And watched to see the flowers unfold, 

They faded on the stem. 

She whispered promises so fair 

They drove away all fears ; 
But clouds drank up the sunny air, 

And dripped in rainy tears. 



FACING THE UNKNOWN 

She took me up on vision heights, 
And showed a prospect sweet ; 

But I have stumbled through the nights 
With weary, bleeding feet. 

So tell me, New Year, what's to be 

Upon each new to-morrow. 
Shall my bright hopes abide with me, 

Or change to shapes of sorrow } 

A low-voiced wind came whispering 

From out the mystery : 
" I am the New Year, and I bring 

That which is given to me. 

" Thou livest not alone for joy, 

Or but to gather flowers. 
Lament not, then, what storms destroy, 

Nor chide the dark-winged hours. 

''Through cloud and sun and dripping rain 
The Year her garment weaves, 

And clothes the earth with golden grain 
And decks with autumn leaves. 

" And all the mingled days conspire 

To make her work complete. 
Even discords tremble on her lyre 

To make the song more sweet. 



197 



1 98 TIMES 

" Not what thou hast, but what thou art, 
And what thou yet shalt be : 

Each year is but a verse, a part 
Of Hfe's full poesy. 

" The minor mingles with the gay ; 

And, when the song is done, 
Thou'lt see how each its part did play 

To make the poem one. 

" Then ask not what's ahead of thee. 

Each day thy part fulfil ; 
Be sure that thy life's mystery 

Obeys a higher will. 

" 'Tis love that in the darkness leads ; 

My face thou may'st not see ; 
It is enough for all thy needs 

That thou do follow me." 



THE UNDISCOVERED I99 



THE UNDISCOVERED 

New Year, 1878 

A CROSS the bare fields, through the night, 
^^~^ On cold winds desolately sighing, 
From the far east where stars are bright, 
To be revealed with morning's light, 
The young New Year comes flying. 
New Year, by darkness hovered. 
What new songs will you sing me ? 
What new gifts will you bring me 
From out the undiscovered ? 

Rare things the Old Year took away 

To hold forever in his keeping : 
Hopes that I thought would bloom some day ; 
Children that round my knees did play ; 
In his cold arms they now are sleeping. 
New Year, by darkness hovered. 
Can you bring back to me 
Those hopes, that childish glee, 
From out the undiscovered? 



TIMES 

I had a heart all innocent ; 

The robes I wore were clean and white ; 
But now my robe is soiled and rent ; 
My heart is sad, while I lament 

The chosen wrong, the slighted right. 
New Year, by darkness hovered, 
The lost peace I deplore 
Can you bring back once more 
From out the undiscovered ? 

The Old Year's skies were very fair ; 

Its flowers and grasses fresh and sweet ; 
Its summer clouds, its sunsets rare, 
Its song-birds carolling in air, 

Its children shouting round my feet, — 
New Year, by darkness hovered, 
In the new dawns that rise. 
Will you bring fairer skies 
From out the undiscovered ? 

The Old Year gave me books, and " thought 

That wanders through eternity " ; 
It gave n^.e human love, that brought 
A message straight from God, and taught 
My soul what heaven itself might be. 
New Year, by darkness hovered, 
A truer love, I know, 
You have not to bestow 
In all the undiscovered. 



THE CHRISTMAS HOPE 201 

I'm glad your face I cannot see ; 

I bid you welcome without fear ; 
Whate'er your secret gift may be, 
My Father's hand hath sent it me : 
1 take it, be it smile or tear. 

New Year, by darkness hovered, 
I would not, if I might, 
Know what you hide from sight 
There in the undiscovered. 



THE CHRISTMAS HOPE 

1880 

A LITTLE babe came to its mother's arms, 
-^~*- And, stretching out dainty and dimpled palms, 
Bestowed upon her woman's proudest honor, — 
The halo of sweet motherhood's Madonna. 
For each new baby born is God's own child. 
As much as he on Mary's lap who smiled. 

What was it he in tiny hands did bring. 
To prove that he from God's own skies did spring .? 
He brought down to his mother's heart again 
That hope that never yet was far from men, — 
The Christmas hope, that through the ages long 
Leads on the nations with its luring song. 



202 TIMES 

She crooned above his cradle ; and alway 

She dreamed, as mothers do dream every day. 

In dream, she saw him grow to man's estate, 

Her heart with all a mother's pride elate. 

He shone, a day-star, in his noble youth 

To light mankind along the path of truth. 

He was a leader ; and, with life athrill. 

His followers he inspired with resolute will ; 

Infected all with voice and kindling eye 

With his high purpose both to live and die. 

He was both light and life ; and then above 

Both light and life there gleamed a wondrous love, 

That in the worthless outcast still could see 

What was not yet, — the man that was to be. 

Thus dreamed the mother while her baby slept; 
And, just for very joy, some tears she wept. 
Her son, God's son, should a Messiah be, 
And help to set the groaning nations free ! 
So every mother dreams above her boy. 
Her good-will glowing in her mother's joy. 

But dreams will fade. I saw this mother soon 

No longer o'er the swaying cradle croon ; 

But, with heart-break and raining eyes, she bowed 

Above an empty crib and sobbed aloud. 

The light, the life, the love, had faded quite, 

Like the aurora of a winter's liisfht. 



THE CHRISTMAS HOPE 203 

Or, harder yet than death, to man's estate 
He came at last, but neither good nor great. 
Or yet again, what happens every day. 
The mother's dream divine did fade away. 
Her boy, grown man, lived out his common days, 
And helped, a little, human life to raise. 
The world was better that he lived and died, 
Though he fulfilled not what was prophesied. 

But hopes like these, what if they often are 

Like the blank heaven, from which has fallen a star ? 

Still are they not the stars that lead the way 

On toward the sunrise of the better day ? 

These hopes and dreams of nobler things to be. 

Though for long centuries we do not see 

The dream turned into fact, they lure us still 

Toward the kingdom of divine Good-will. 

And each illusion lost but goads us on : 

Some glad day yet the kingdom shall be won ! 

In old crusading days, a childhood band 
Rushed blindly on to seek the Sacred Land, 
And wrest from grasp of pagan infidel 
The tomb of Christ. 'Tis said that it befell, 
Whenever some new town arose in sight. 
They cried out, eager in their glad delight,— 
Trusting no more of toil remained for them, — 
" Now are we there ? Is this Jerusalem ? *' 



204 TIMES 

But, like a fire besieged by wind and rain, 

Though almost quenched, their courage flamed again. 

Still on they marched ; and every distant spire 

Kindled fresh hope, and fed their strong desire. 

And, though the city yet was far away. 

Each new town lured them onward day by day. 

This is the Christmas hope. A son is born, 

Who, like a star upon the front of morn, 

Is herald of the day that is divine, — 

The day that with the Perfect Light shall shine. 

But still Messiah dies, and hope delays; 

Still mankind stumbles over darksome ways. 

Disease and sorrow and despair abide. 

As though no Son of God had lived or died. 

The way is weary ; and the city bright 

We seek so long is still beyond our sight. 

Once more, the Christmas bells ring on the air. 

And with their music drive away despair. 

The hope-crowned Christ-child ever comes anew ; 

One clay, the mother's dream shall all come true. 

New heavens, new earth ! Although they long delay, 

'Tis God who lures us on, and leads the way. 

And each illusion, like a veil withdrawn. 

Fades like a cloud but to reveal the dawn. 

A morn shall surely come when Christmas bells 

shall ring. 
Proclaiming evil dead, and man the glad earth's king. 



CONTRASTED GREETINGS 205 



CONTRASTED GREETINGS 

NEW year's, 1880 

( A lotiely life speaks ) 

T WANT no New Year, for I face 
^ Each coming day with dread : 
The dear old lost years have my heart ; 
Oh, give me back my dead ! 

I see them in the sunny time 

Of summers long ago. 
Ere on my brow the wrinkles came, 

Or on my head the snow. 

I shouted " Happy New Year " once. 

The merriest of the gay, 
And strained my eager eyes to see 

Along life's forward way. 

For song and flowers and love led on 
A path that seemed forever. 

And joy and triumph promised then 
To crown my least endeavor. 



2o6 TIMES 

But as I went on, one by one 

Flowers withered, songs grew still ; 

Loved ones sank down and slept, and none 
Their places came to fill. 

No new 3^ears then for me ! I'd give 
For one dear year that's past 

All that the future promises, 
On to the very last. 

( Another speaks ) 
A Happy New Year ? Yes, 'tis still 

A happy time to me, 
Though morning's light is far behind. 

And evening's star I see. 

I sit here in my easy chair 
And dream the old days over, 

My childhood where the robins sang 
Above the fields of clover. 

'Twas long ago ; and on my brow 

My hair is getting thin. 
Am I the happy girl that once 

A lover came to win .-' 

Did children come, and round my feet 

Prattle and coo and play ? 
I see their winsome faces yet 

As if 'twere yesterday. 



CONTRASTED GREETINGS 207 

He went; and they, — some slept, and some 

Have built nests of their own. 
They loved me ; and 'tis not their fault 

If Grandma's here alone. 

The past was full of good : no power 

Can take that past away : 
I keep its dear ones in my heart ; 

They smile on me to-day. 

( Time speaks) 
A power not myself compels 

My tireless, age-long flight : 
I brush the morning with my wings ; 

I plunge into the night. 

Forever and forevermore, 

I hasten on my way ; 
And unto me a thousand years 

Are but as yesterday. 

I am the maker of all things, 

I their destroyer too ; 
And ever from the crumbled old 

I build me something new. 

I watch the buds burst forth in spring, 

I see the brown leaves fall ; 
And, 'neath the shelter of my wings, 

I love and keep them all, 



208 TIMES 

I sorrow for the griefs of men, 
Their care and toil and tears ; 

And, if I could, would fain hold back 
The onrush of the years. 

But nothing precious shall be lost, 

I cast no good away, 
I only hide it for a while, 

To be revealed some day. 

( The voice of Faith) 
I am the whisper in men's hearts 

Of better things to be, 
The eye that through the winter's storm 

The bloom of June can see. 

I read the record of the past ; 

I study long gone years, 
And see how all the old of good 

Was watered with salt tears. 

I see how always from decay 
Some grander good has sprung, 

How over fields of sore defeat 
Have shouts of triumph rung. 

In every clod, I see a power 

That struggles toward the light ; 

And over every prostrate Wrong 
Springs up the giant Right. 



EASTER BELLS 



209 



From all the past, I gather strength 

To face the coming day. 
I see not, yet I know the good 

Shall triumph and make way. 

"A Happy New Year! then," cries P'aith. 

The good time comes apace. 
Though tarrying long, the perfect day 

Shall dawn for all the race. 



EASTER BELLS 

1880 

RING, Easter bells, from earth to heaven ! 
Ring down from heaven to earth ! 
The brightest hopes of human hearts 
Now celebrate their birth ! 

Ring, Easter bells, from golden throats ! 

Ring all your meanings out ! 
Roll through the sky your liquid notes, 

And sweep away our doubt. 

I hear them from that far-off dawn 
Where man lay crouched in night : 

They rung the hated darkness out, 
And hailed the rising Light ! 



TIMES 

I hear them from the shivering caves, 
Where, fleeing from the cold. 

Men longed and waited for the sun 
To light his fires of gold. 

I hear them ring from hill to hill. 
And through each valley wide, 

As from the south the conquering spring 
Buds forth on every side. 

They ring, these gladsome Easter bells, 
In green leaf, in bright flower ; 

They toll the knell of winter's death ; 
They chant life's conquering power. 

I hear them by the sacred graves 
Where weep the dews of even ; 

From skies that overarch the soul. 
They ring down hopes of heaven. 

I hear them from Judea's hills : 
The grave had been a prison ; 

But hope took on an angel form 
And shouted, '' Christ has risen ! " 

No longer now the dead go down 

To sheol, hades, sleep : 
They live and think, and for us still 

Their old-time love they keep. 



EASTER BELLS 211 

These Easter bells, the bells of hope, 

Though age-long wrongs endure, 
I hear them ring a coming time 

Of gladness for the poor. 

Above the wail of sin and crime, 

The discord harsh of wrong, 
I hear the babel cries attuned 

To joyous tones of song. 

Of ugliness transformed ; of hate 
Changed into love ; of doubt 

Flowering in faith ; of old decay- 
In progress blooming out ; 

Of every evil trampled down, — 

Of these the chorus swells ! 
"God's kingdom comes, and this is man's." 

Ring out the Easter bells ! 

" Light, life, and joy ! Light, life, and joy ! 

They'll conquer at the last. 
They'll conquer, conquer, — light, life, joy!" 

Each bell-tongue echoes fast. 

"God lives! truth lives! love lives ! lives! lives!" 

This message each tongue tells. 
" Work, then, O man ! and thou shalt sing ! " 

Ring out the Easter bells. 



212 TIMES 



THEN ONLY? 

1881 

^1 TAS it only in Judea, 
^ ^ Eighteen hundred years ago, 
That the lord of earth and heaven 
Came to visit men below ? 

True, he came then in a manhood 
That was blessed, sweet, and strong. 

Teaching broader views of goodness 
And a deeper scorn of wrong. 

But to say that oni:e and on/y 
Came he, and in magic wise, 

Is to slight f/i' eternal advent^ 
Never hid from holy eyes. 

Not alone in that one cradle 

In the far-off Nazareth ! 
God speaks straight to every mother 

Through the baby's lisping breath. 

Calling one birth only sinless 
Casts on motherhood a scorn : 

Holy are the thousand chambers 

Where the infant "Christs" are born. 



THEN ONLY 213 

Not alone in one grand era 

Does the " Blessed One " come near : 
From the first day till the last one, 

He is coming every 3'ear. 

In the " mystery of matter," 

Through the ages long at strife, 
God was in what men call lifeless. 

Struggling upward into life. 

Up the dateless ages lifting, 

From the lowest crawling worm 
On through reptile, fish, and mammal, 

Blossomed he from form to form. 

Till at length out through the brutal. 

Like a sunrise through a cloud. 
Waking, wondering, gleamed the human, 

And a voice spoke up aloud. 

God came then in wondrous fashion. 
When his great man-child had birth ; 

When, erect, he faced the heavens. 
And stood conscious on the earth. 

Every age since then was Advent. 

Came he all the aeons through. 
As man learned the art of thifiking, 

And achieved the power to do. 



214 TIMES 

Yes, he came through hidden pathways, 

As the life comes in the spring, — 
Underground in silent working 
Till the time for blossoming. 

When man tamed the stubborn iron, 
And to flexile uses wrought ; 

And phonetic signs invented 

To become the wings of thought, — 

Then in truth God came and whispered, 
*' Be thou free and mighty now ! 

Rule the earth with iron sceptre, 
All its powers to thee shall bow ! 

" Armed with letters, go thou forward ; 

To all doors, thou hast the key ; 
Naught on earth and naught in heaven 
But shall open unto thee ! " 

Thus, God Cometh up the ages, — 
Hear on battle-fields his call ! 

At the sound, old systems tremble, 
Brain-bonds snap, and shackles fall. 

Through the rising of the peoples. 
By the ships whose hearts are fires, 

On the trains through tunnelled mountains, 
By the lightning-throbbing wires. 



THEN ONLY 21 5 

Through the patient toil of science, 

Through the fairy grace of art, 
Through the broader range of thinking, 

Through new tenderness of heart, 

Evermore is godhood coming, — 
Godhood robed in human guise. 

Hidden from the backward looking, 
But revealed unto the wise. 



No more then on human nature. 

No more on God's glad, green earth, 

Dare to cast contempt ! Remember 
Here God's kingdom has its birth. 

Look not to the distant heavens. 
Nor to east nor west ; for, lo ! 

God is 'neath thy feet, and cometh. 
Like all fair growths, from below. 

In the beating of thy pulses, 
In the throbbing of thy brain. 

In the air and sunshine round thee, 
See, he comes, and comes again ! 

In the grand ideal that leads thee. 
In fair hopes that gleam and flee, 

In the ever-sought to-morrow. 
Forward still he beckons thee ! 



I'J TIMES 

When disease and want and sorrow 
Are beneath thy gladsome feet, 

When are broken all earth's shackles, 
When as one all nations meet. 

When the wide earth is a garden, 
When love driveth out all hate, 

When earth's once terrific forces 
Like trained servants on thee wait,- 

Then the God who through the ages 
Did thy toilsome progress lead, 

He who was and is and shall be, 
Will have come i?i very deed I 




SORROW AND HOPE 



LIGHT ON THE CLOUD 



np HERE'S never an always cloudless sky, 

^ There's never a vale so fair 
But over it sometimes shadows lie 
In a chill and songless air. 

But never a cloud o'erhung the day, 

And flung iis shadows down, 
But on its heaven-side gleamed some ray, 

Forming a sunshine crown. 

It is dark on only the dov/nward side : 

Though rage the tempest loud, 
And scatter its terrors far and wide, 

There's light upon the cloud. 

And often, when it traileth low. 

Shutting the landscape out, 
And only the chilly east winds blow 

From the foggy seas of doubt, 



2l8 SORROW AND HOPE 

There'll come a time, near the setting sun, 
When the joys of life seem few, 

A rift will break in the evening dun. 
And the golden light stream through. 

And the soul a glorious bridge will make 

Out of the golden bars, 
And all its priceless treasures take 

Where shine the eternal stars. 



MYSTERY 

/^H, why are darkness and thick cloud 
^^ Wrapped close forever round the throne of 
God? 
Why is our pathway still in mystery trod } 
None answers, though we call aloud. 

The seedlet of the rose 

While still beneath the ground, 
Think you it ever knows 
The mystery profound 
Of its own power of birth and bloom, 
Until it springs above its tomb .'' 



MYSTERY 219 

The caterpillar crawls 

Its mean life in the dust, 
Or hangs upon the walls, 
A dead aurelian crust. 
Think you the larva ever knew 
Its gold-winged flight before it flew ? 

When from the port of Spain 

Columbus sailed away, 
And down the sinking main 
Moved toward the setting day, 
Could any words have made him see 
The new worlds that were yet to be ? 

The boy with laugh and play 

Fills out his little plan. 
Still lisping, day by day, 
Of how he'll be a man ; 
But can you to his childish brain 
Make aught of coming manhood plain ? 

Let heaven be just above us. 

Let God be e'er so high. 
Yet, howsoe'er he love us. 
And howe'er much we cry. 
There is no speech that can make clear 
The thing that " doth not yet appear." 



220 SORROW AND HOPE 



'Tis not that God loves mystery : 
The things beyond us we can never know 
Until up to their lofty height we grow, 

And finite grasps infinity. 



THE PESCADERO PEBBLES 

'1 17 HERE slopes the beach to the setting sun, 
^ • On the Pescadero shore, 
Forever and ever the restless surf 
Rolls up with its sullen roar. 

And grasping the pebbles in white hands. 

And chafing them together. 
And grinding them against the cliffs 

In stormy and sunny weather, 

It gives them never any rest : 

All day, all night, the pain 
Of their long agony sobs on, 

Sinks, and then swells again. 

And tourists come from every clime 

To search with eager care 
For those whose rest has been the least ; 

For such have grown most fair. 



THE PESCADERO PEBBLES 221 

But yonder, round a point of rock, 

In a quiet, sheltered cove. 
Where storm ne'er breaks and sea ne'er comes. 

The tourists never rove. 

The pebbles lie 'neath the sunny sky 

In quiet evermore : 
In dreams of everlasting peace, 

They sleep upon the shore, 

But ugly, rough, and jagged still, 

They lie through idle years ; 
For they miss the beat of angry storms 

And the surf that drips in tears. 

The hard turmoil of the pitiless sea 
Turns the pebble to beauteous gem. 

They who escape the agony 
Miss sorrow's diadem. 



222 SORROW AND HOPE 



LIFE IN DEATH 

"\ T EW being is from being ceased ; 
■*■ ^ No life is but by death ; 
Something's expiring everywhere 
To give some other breath. 

There's not a flower that glads the spring 

But blooms upon the grave 
Of its dead parent seed, o'er which 

Its forms of beauty wave. 

The oak that, like an ancient tower, 
Stands massive on the heath. 

Looks out upon a living world, 
But strikes its roots in death. 

The cattle on a thousand hills 
Clip the sweet herbs that grow 

Rank from the soil enriched by herds 
Sleeping long years below. 

To-day is but a structure built 

Upon dead yesterday ; 
And Progress hews her temple-stones 

From wrecks of old decay. 



THE DEAD ACORN 223 

Then mourn not death : 'tis but a stair 

Built with divinest art, 
Up which the deathless footsteps climb 

Of loved ones who depart. 



THE DEAD ACORN 



T WALKED in the field one autumn day, 
^ And came where an oak-tree stood 
And talked with the winds of an elder dayj 
And of nature's brotherhood. 

I sat me down by its ancient bole, 
And mused till, in half-dream, 

The real seemed fancy to my soul, 
And fancies real did seem. 

I noted where an acorn lay : 

The flecked sunbeams fell through. 

And the rain dripped on it day by day 
The warm, long summer through. 

The leaves and dust half-covered o'er 
The burst and blackened shell : 

I thought, " The dead arise no more : 
They perish where they fell." 



224 SORROW AND HOPE 

A gust then shook the leafy top 

Of the tree above my head, 
And a shower of acorns fair did drop 

Where the brother mast lay dead. 

And I heard a whisper as if they spoke,— 
Or was it the west wind's sigh ? — 

" O acorn child of the long-lived oak ! 
'Tis pity that you should die. 

" The beauty of your fair round form 
Is broken and blackened now : 

No more you'll dare the joy of the storm, 
Nor swing on your sunlit bough. 

" Oh, might one forever an acorn stay 
In the beauty of smooth, round shell, 

And rock in the sunshine every day, 
The universe were well ! " 

While thus the soughing voice wailed by 
With a moan as of falling tears, 

The dead climbed up in the sunlit sky 
To a life of a hundred years. 



GOING TO SLEEP 



GOING TO SLEEP 

A FTER the day's long playing, 
^^^^ Tired as tired can be, 
My baby girl comes saying, 
" Papa, will you rock me ?" 

The busy works of daytime 
Allure her now no more ; 

The books and toys of playtime 
Are scattered round the floor. 

Off now with shoe and stocking, 
Off with the crumpled dress : 

She's ready now for rocking, 
For crooning and caress. 

And slowly sinking, sinking, 
The night comes down the skies 

While drooping, opening, winking. 
Sleep settles on her eyes. 

She does not fear the sleeping : 
Out o'er the sea of dark, 

Close held in papa's keeping, 
She drifts in her frail bark. 



225 



226 SORROW AND HOPE 

No matter for the morrow, 
Enough that papa knows ; 

With smile undimmed by sorrow, 
Out in the dark she goes. 

So should it be with dying : 
Drop earthly cares and fears ; 

In Father's arms you're lying ; 
Look up with smiles, not tears. 

You know not of the waking ? 

Be not with fear beguiled ; 
For, when the morning's breaking, 

He'll not forget his child. 




LIFE FROM DEATH 227 



LIFE FROM DEATH 

HAD one ne'er seen the miracle 
Of May-time from December born, 
Who would have dared the tale to tell 
That 'neath ice-ridges slept the corn ? 

White death lies deep upon the hills, 
And moanings through the tree-tops go ; 

The exulting wind, with breath that chills, 
Shouts triumph to the unresting snow. 

My study window shows me where 

On hard-fought fields the summer died : 

Its banners now are stripped and bare 
Of even autumn's fading pride. 

Yet, on the gust that surges by, 
I read a pictured promise : soon 

The storm of earth and frown of sky 
Will melt into luxuriant June. 



228 SORROW AND HOPE 



AT TWILIGHT TIME 



A 



T twilight time, 
The musing hour, 
When the past relives, 
And we feel the power 
Of the subtle spell that awhile calls back 
The treasures we've lost along life's track,- 

We sit and dream. 

Till the present falls 
In the shadow that rises 
And sinks on the walls ; 
And the old time only is living and true. 
And dreams are the things that now we do. 

Then on the stairs 

Is the patter and fall 
Of the little feet 

That ran through the hall ; 
We hear the old shout of frolic and glee. 
And again the lost darling is on our knee. 



AT TWILIGHT TIME 229 

The little shoes, 

The doll, the cart, 
The half-worn frock, — 
Oh, who would part 
With these treasured trifles that hold the key 
To the sacred chamber of memory ! 

The tears may fall, 

The heart may swell ; 
The loss is bitter ; 
Yet who can tell, 
From a mother's love, what treasure vast 
Could buy these waifs of a shipwrecked past? 

Our human love 
Is but a ray : 
In God's great heart 
Is full-orbed day. 
If the toys of our children we cherish and bless, 
Is God's love for his little ones smaller or less ? 



230 SORROW AND HOPE 



THE FINISHED LIFE 

'T^ HERE'S a beauty in the spring-time 
■•■ With its fresh grass and its flowers, 
With the song-birds in the branches 
And the children's happy hours. 

But there's no less of beauty 

When the leaves turn gold and brown 
In the short'ning days of autumn, 

When far south the birds have flown. 

If the rough hand of the tempest 
Tear away the fresh young leaves, 

Over youthful vigor wasted, 

Who can wonder if one grieves ? 

But when ofi the autumn branches 
Drop the brown leaves one by one, 

Seems it then as fair and fitting 
As the setting of the sun. 

Here the old man by the fireside 

Backward looks through tender tears : 

And he says, " With wife and children 
Trod I long and happy years." 



THE FINISHED LIFE 23! 

As he sitteth by the window 

Looking o'er the city ways, 
Whispers he, " Success and honor 

Have been mine in gone by days. 

" I have seen the world's fair beauty ; 

I have tasted all its sweet ; 
Now, when past my two and three score. 

Life is finished and complete. 

" And the face of her who loved me 

Beckons to me far away ; 
I have wrought the work God gave me, 

Wherefore should I longer stay? " 

Who then, friends, would wish to keep him ? 

Sound no sad, funereal knell : 
Of his life say, It was blessed ! 

Of his death say. It is well ! 



232 SORROW AND HOPE 



BETTER OFF 



T_T E'S better off." With words like these 
-*• -*■ Kind friends their comfort try to speak. 
None doubts it of a man like him ; 

Yet far off sound the words, and weak. 

The heart that loves is not content, 
However well the loved one be, 

To have him happy far away, 

But cries, "I want him still with me!'' 

That other country may be fair. 

Brighter than aught the earth has shown, 
But better any place with him 

Than to be left here all alone. 

Thus pleads the heart that God has made, — 
He cannot blame what he has given, — 

For heaven without love could not be, 
And, having love, the earth is heaven. 

The folded hands, the closing eyes, 
The yielding up of failing breath, — 

These not the worst : to tear apart 
Two hearts that truly love is death. 



HETTER OFF 233 

Since love is all the joy of life, 

In earth below or heaven above, 
Somewhere, we cannot help but trust, 

God keeps for us the ones we love. 

Like ships the storms drive far apart 
Wide o'er the sea 'neath cloud and sun, 

We'll still sail for the self-same port, 

And meet there when the voyage is done. 

And as we tell the story o'er. 

How we were driven by the blast. 

More sweet will be those sunny hours 
By contrast with the sorrows past. 




234 SORROW AND HOPE 



THE DEAD ONE'S MESSAGE 

/'^OULD now the silence of these lips 
^^-^ Wake into speech once more to-day 
With their sweet tones of old-time love, 

What last words, think you, would they say ? 

" Weep for me tenderly : for I, 
Were you here lying in my place, 

Would press my warm lips on your brow, 
And rain the hot tears on your face. 

" For is it not death's sting to know 

That, howe'er happy, still apart 
Our pathways lead us, while the old, 

Strong love still yearns within the heart ? 

" And when this body's laid away, 
I'd have you my low earth -bed make 

All fresh with grass, and sweet with flowers, 
And sacred for the old time's sake. 

" But then, sweet friends, look up and on ! 

Let sunshine all the clouds break through. 
And do not for my sake forget 

Wh3.t/or the living you should do ! 



THE DEAD ONE's MESSAGE 235 

" Let not the shadow of my loss 
Darken the path the living tread ; 

But let the memories of my past 

Still cheer and help, though I am dead. 

" These ears can hear your words no more, 

However fondly you may speak ; 
For my sake then, with words of love. 

The living cheer, and help the weak. 

" My heart, now still, no longer aches : 
But hapless thousands watch and wake 

Through weary nights and hopeless days ; 
Help them before their sad hearts break 1 

" Your willing hands for me have wrought ; 

But now I need your help no more. 
The service you would render me 

Give those who suffer at your door. 

" Cherish my memory in your heart ! 

But, lest it grow a selfish thing. 
Make channels for a thousand streams, 

Of which my love shall be the spring. 

" So from the grave I still may speak ; 

Still help the sorrowing world to bless ; 
Still live, though dead, and swell the tide 

Of human love and happiness." 



236 SORROW AND HOPE 



WHICH IS BETTER 



T^ROM out of the mystery cometh to earth 

-*- A new child of God through the gateway of birth. 

Out into the mystery that lies beyond breath 

Goes a new child of God through the gateway of death. 

We smile at the birth, at the death toll the bell ; 
Yet which is the better, who is there can tell ? 

How oft is the birth to a life full of tears, — 

To a path that is rough and o'erclouded by fears ! 

How often, heart-hungry for love unreturned. 

We see the bliss vanish for which we have yearned ! 

How often the structures we reared with delight, 
Our houses of joy, crumble down in a night. 

A live sorrow often is harder, we say. 

Than the parting from those who are taken away ; 

And we sigh for the peace of an undisturbed sleep 
Where hearts are not broken, and eyes do not weep. 

Our birth is a coming — so wise men have said — 
From some other land, where they count us as dead. 



WHICH IS BETTER 237 

For if it be true we existed before, 

To the old home we died, as we came to this shore. 

Did they mourn our departure there, as we to-day 
Lament for our dear ones when they go away ? 

Who knows then that v/hat we call death may not be 
But another new birth, through whose gateway we 

Take one more step upward, as ever the bars 
Of life's mystic ladder o'ertop the high stars ? 

Birth and death may be one then : the different view. 
Or coming or going, makes us think them two. 

And, since life reaches upward and on through all 

time. 
Each death may be birth into some fairer clime. 

Since birth and death both then are mysteries deep, 
And whether they're waking or going to sleep 

We know not ; and whether 'tis better to stay, 
Or whether 'tis best to be going away. 

Let us trust and be patient : for sure He must know, 
From whose Life we come, to whose Life we go. 

Birth, death, — which is better no mortal can tell : 
Believe that they both then in His hands are well. 



238 SORROW AND HOPE 



A LESSON OF TRUST 

A BUD of life just opening 
^^"^ Its petals fresh and fair, 
But now frost-nipped and withered 

In spite of all my care ! 

Both day and night I watched it ; 

'Twas never out of sight : 
Glad tears I gave for dew-drops, 

And love for sunshine bright. 

And yet it needs must wither ! 

O Father, tell me why, 
Of all in earth's wide garden, 

My tiny flower must die ! 

A thousand happy mothers 
Their little ones still hold, 

While I for mine must hunger 
With yearnings all untold. 

In other homes, child voices 
Laugh out their happy glee ; 

But all their winsome prattle 
Seems mockery now to me ! 



A LESSON OF TRUST 239 

For my child's voice is silent ; 

And no one tells me why, 
Of all glad mothers' children, 

My precious child must die ! 

Then came from out the silence — 

As though some heart above 
Was melted into pity — 

These tender words of love : 

" O mother, in your sorrow, 

O father, in your grief. 
Can you not trust a little, 

And, trusting, find relief? 

" I lead you in the darkness 

A way you may not tell ; 
And, if I would, I cannot 

The mystery dispel. 

" Can you, with all your trying, 
To childish thought make plain 

The wisdom of your training. 
The school-day toil and pain ? 

" However plain the language, 

It falls on childish ears : 
They cannot spell its meaning 

With eyes all dim with tears. 



240 SORROW AND HOPE 

" The boy cannot know manhood ; 

The coming years must teach 
How childhood's trust and trouble 

Toward grander issues reach. 

" Till you can read the future, 

How can you know to-day ? 
'Tis ever by the ending 

That you must judge the way. 

" To your own little children, 

Who, fearful, clasp your hand, 
You say, ' Fear not, but trust me : 

Someday, you'll understand.' 

" Learn thus your own good lesson : 

Be patient ; and one day, 
From some height looking backward, 

You'll see your earthly way ; 

*' And then your grown-up childhood 
You'll know as school-day hours ; 

And all your tears as dew-drops 
That helped life's opening flowers. 

" Trust, then, while through the darkness 

I lead you by the hand. 
The end that's now beyond you 

Some day, you'' II understand'' ^ 

CN 



THE DEAD HOM£ 241 



THE DEAD HOME 

n^HE heart of home is still : 

-*- The house stands on the street, 
Nor tells the passers-by 

Its heart has ceased to beat. 

And yet within how changed ! 

The rooms look as of old : 
Across the carpets fair 

The sunlight pours its gold. 

The tables and the books, 
The stairways and the hall. 

Seem as before : still hang 
The pictures on the wall. 

The little ones, too young 
To know what it may mean. 

Their wondering questions ask. 
With tears and smiles between. 

The body of the home 

Stands still upon the street ; 

But yet how changed within, — 
Iti heart has ceased to beat ! 



242 SORROW AND HOPE 

The mother was the heart, — 
The mother and the wife : 

Her smile was all its light, 
Her movement all its life. 

Now that she smiles no more, 
And does not lift her head. 

The house may still remain, 
But, oh, the home is dead ! 

The lonely husband broods 
Upon the years gone by, — 

The kindness on her lips. 
The love-light in her eye. 

And then he looks before, 

And shrinks to meet the days, 

When, sitting all alone, 
He'll miss her quiet ways. 

His heart is sore to think 
That time may e'en erase 

From her own children's hearts 
The memory of her face. 

For now their wondering looks 
Beseech the reason why 

Their mother lies so still, 

And why those round her cry. 



THE DEAD HOME 343 

O house upon the street, 

What comfort can be said 
To him who weeps within ? 

The heart of home is dead ! 

But this : You must be brave 

The little ones to bless 
With all your manhood's strength, 

And all her tenderness. 

'Tis double duty now : 

If she could speak, she'd say, 
" Let not the ones we loved — 

Now I have gone away — 

" Be poor in love or care : 

Be mother in my place ; 
And let them not forget 

Their absent mother's face. 

" Some day, — who knows ! — perchance, 
Where friends can ne'er forget. 

They'll clasp me in their arms, 
And call me mother yet." 



244 SORROW AND HOPE 



THE HEART'S SPRING-TIME 

'T^HE earth lay shrouded white in snow ; 
-■• With low, sad voice, the winds wailed by 
While, as in hopeless prayer, the trees 
Their gaunt arms lifted to the sky. 

Winter was king ; and icy Death, 

His favorite, stretched his sceptre forth, 

And held all fair things, leaf and flower, 
Prisoned in dungeons of the north. 

All nature was in chains : the brooks 
Crept ice-bound on their sluggish way ; 

The sun shone feebly, and the night 
Soon blotted out the cheerless day. 

Then from the south the glad spring came. 
And breathed through all the chilly air. 

And wheresoe'er her warm feet trod 
Sprang life and beauty everywhere. 

The earth flung off her shroud : the winds 
Their wailing ceased, and stooped to tell 

The grasses and the flowers 'twas time 
For roots to start and buds to swell. 



THE heart's spring-time 245 

The trees' long prayer was answered now : 
The heavens once again were kind ; 

And, thrilled through every bough, they flung 
Their leafy banners to the wind. 

The fields and meadows all put on 

Their spangled dress of grass and flowers ; 

Brooks babbled, and ecstatic birds 

Made shake with joy their leafy towers. 

Such is young Nature's Easter Day ! 

But tell me, then. Has man no part 
In life's long triumph over death ? 

Is there no Easter of the heart ? 

Our loved ones, shrouded white, have lain 
Beneath the snow these many years : 

The sad-voiced winds above them go, 
And on their graves drip rainy tears. 

Their shadowy memories visit us, — 

For dreams at least can leave that shore, — 

Mother's gray hairs and gentle eyes, 
As light she steps across the floor ; 

Or comes the brother of our youth. 
Making the far-off years draw nigh ; 

The wife, long lost, our fadeless dream, 
The same old love-look in her eye ; 



246 SORROW Ax\D HOPE 

The laughing child, whose sunny hair, 

Was SO entangled in our heart 
It bleeds afresh when we recall 

The hour that tore our lives apart. 

'Tis winter in our lives ! Snows fall, 
Chill, dreary skies are overhead ; 

The fresh leaves of our youth are gone, 
The flowers of our hope are dead. 

Is there no Easter of the heart .? 

Will our lives bud again no more ? 
Will they no more return, — the birds 

Whose music made us glad before ? 

Nay, listen ! in my heart I hear 

The whisper of another spring : 
The winds blow warm from sunny lands. 

Leaves burst and buds are blossoming. 

I catch the fragrance of a clime 

Where summer blooms the whole round year, 
Where every sound melts into song 

And comes as music to my ear. 

The lost ones hidden by the snow, 
W^ith faces white and still and cold. 

Beneath those soft skies wake again 
To live and love us as of old. 



THE HEART'S SPRING-TIME 247 

Mother and brother, wife and child, — 
They keep the same remembered faces ; 

Only tear-stains and lines of care 

With deathless youth can find no places. 

And, best of all, it looks like home, 
No strange land trod by alien feet, — 

Familiar as our childhood haunts. 
Clothed all in mellow sunlight sweet. 

The heart's long prayer is answered thus : 
The dead through no far countries roam. 

As babes born into waiting arms. 
They die into some higher home. 

And, 'neath the sunshine of this hope. 
My life, where joy had ceased to sing, 

Where dead flowers mocked the withered leaves. 
Now buds and blossoms like the spring. 



